Timeless
by SheWalksWithRavens
Summary: It is said that true love knows no boundaries. So what if fate decided to give two people another chance at finding happiness 1500 years after their first meeting? TristanIsolde
1. Chapter 1

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

A/N: _While writing Secrets in the Shadows I was hit with a particular inspiration to write this. To be honest I don't know where it is headed, but I felt that I should share it with you in case anyone found it redeeming or interesting. So read and review it, let me know what you think. And if there is a large enough response, then maybe I'll continue it._

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She ran through the woods, constantly looking over her shoulder, not in fear but in a playful manner. Then an idea popped into her head and she climbed up on to the large oak tree on the side of the path, lying flat against the branch, her cat like body molding with the bark.

A few moments later a man rode past on a dappled grey, not taking notice of her hiding in the tree. When she was sure that he was long gone, she hopped down from the tree landing in a crouched position. However, as soon as she straightened herself out, she felt a hand clasp itself around her waist.

What was strange about this was that she was not at all afraid, and relaxed in the man's arms, shutting her eyes as she did so. He brushed back her long dark hair from her ear and began to speak but it only came out as a buzz. She knit her brows clearly confused, but that damn buzzing wouldn't go away.

With a groan her eyes snapped open and she reached for her alarm clock at the side of her bed.

"Just a dream... Isolde...it was just a bloody dream." She muttered to herself before casting aside her worn quilt from her body.

Her feet searched for the soft fuzzy bunny slippers she knew were at the side of her bed, and slid into them. Her roommates had made fun of her of course for having such childish slippers when she was already twenty-five years old but she didn't care. Isolde always replied that she was going to hold on to her youth as long as she could.

Reaching for the remote she turned up her stereo blasting "Dreams" by The Cranberries as she searched through her closet for something suitable to wear. Isolde was going to be visiting her parents who lived in the country today and her sister was coming as well. Her sister Bridget was three years younger than Isolde and was already engaged, which her mother always found cause to bring up.

Bridget was like their mother in appearance, having inherited a milky complexion, deep green eyes, and auburn waves. Isolde was said to have taken purely after her grandmother. Normally, this would not be a comment which would stir controversy in conversation save that Isolde's grandmother was never considered to be a beauty. Isolde herself was not ugly, she just didn't have the type of looks that merited notice. Her black hair was a bit longer than fashionable and a mess of curls. Her complexion was more olive in nature and she was a bit shorter than most girls. The only redeeming quality she seemed to possess, at least in her mother's eyes, were her enticing brown eyes they were perfectly almond shaped and accented with graceful brows.

So it was no surprise that when they were growing up the boys took notice of Bridget first, and Isolde was only an afterthought. But she didn't really mind, as she was quieter than most loving to be outside and read or riding at the stables near by. Isolde would bring home straight A's and get a half-hearted smile, Bridget would bring home the Captain of the Rugby team and get a huge hug. That's how it always was in the Pritchard household, at least when it came to her mother, and Isolde expected this weekend to be no different.

Grabbing a grey jumper and a pair of jeans she set them out on her bed. She glanced down at the outfit, and realized that it could do with a bit of color and grabbed a scarf that she had knit herself and threw it down with the outfit.

A quick shower, a touch of make-up and twenty minutes later, Isolde was ready to go. Her overnight bag had been packed already, the mini-cooper she so dearly loved had a full tank of gas, she had her journal and she had her cell phone.

Isolde's roomate, an American named Karissa, was riveted to her computer with her headphones blaring music so loudly that she hardly noticed when Isolde said goodbye. Taking a deep breath she headed downstairs to the street. Tossing her bag in the boot, and throwing her purse and journal in the passenger seat she left her life in London behind for that of the quiet of Alston in Cumbria.

When she arrived at the small house, Isolde was reminded of a thousand memories of growing up there. She lugged her bag up to the door and knocked a few times before a man with salt and peppered hair and a mustache greeted her with a bone-crushing hug.

"Harold, who is it at the door dear?" Came a voice from the kitchen.

"Just my favorite little terror." Her father said jokingly.

"Hey, Dad. How are you?" Isolde said as she entered the modest living room.

"Well, you know what the Doctor said. I have to stay away from all those sweets...but don't tell your mother I still sneak a piece of pie every Tuesday." He replied with a wink.

"Harold! I knew you weren't losing weight for a reason." Said Isolde's mother in a shrill voice, apparently eavesdropping from the kitchen.

"Oh for Heaven's sakes Cordelia, just come out here and greet your daughter." He shouted back.

A few moments later a tall woman with delicate features came out of the kitchen drying her hands on an apron. She was slender, and had a refined turtleneck and long skirt on. Her emerald eyes fell on Isolde and she gave her daughter an unnatural smile pulling her into a quick hug.

"Isolde...its good to see you. Forgive me, I am just trying to get dinner on the table. Your sister and that beau of hers already arrived. He's such a gentleman that Gareth, he offered to pick up a bottle of wine down the street for me. Did you know that he is a top solicitor for a firm in London?" Her mother rattled off.

"Yes, mum. You make mention of it every..." Isolde started but she was cut off.

"Well, Bridget always had the best taste in men. I am surprised she is only getting married now, she was rather serious with that Adams boy when she started University but Gareth is a much better catch. Maybe she can give you a few pointers on how to pick them, hmm?" Her mother chucked her under the chin and went back to the kitchen.

Isolde rolled her eyes and titled her head up to the ceiling in frustration. Her father came over and clasped her shoulder.

"Don't worry, once she's had a few glasses of wine in her she'll be as gentle as a mouse." He smiled.

"Are you kidding? Alcohol just makes the insults fly faster. But I'm going to go put these things up in my room. Mum hasn't turned it into her personal exercise center yet has she?" Isolde joked.

"No, she was planning on doing that after Christmas. Hurry back down though will you, I don't want to be left to hear about Gareth all by myself."

Isolde loved her father. She was the quintessential daddy's girl, but with a mother like hers, whou wouldn't be? Climbing the stairs, she turned to the right, turning the brass door knob and entered her room. It was still the same as when she was young, with various horseback riding trophies and cluttered with books. She dropped her bag down on the bed, and walked over to a picture of her from when she was 10.

It was her first competition, and she had beaten the other girls, none of which had a horse as graceful as Apple Jax. The uppity stallion had been a gift from her Grandmother, and he had passed away a few years earlier. She set the frame back down on the shelf and quickly went to freshen up in the bathroom.

When she went back downstairs she saw her younger sister and a dashing looking man who she assumed to be Gareth. Bridget's head turned to the sound of Isolde's shoes hitting the steps and beamed when she saw her older sister.

"Isolde!" She squealed while hugging her.

"Hello Bridget." She replied with a sincere smile.

Though her sister did often steal the spotlight from Isolde and could be a downright cow at times, she would always be her baby sister. Gareth cleared his throat stepping up alongside Bridget and wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Isolde, this is Gareth. Gareth, my big sister Isolde." Bridget beamed.

Isolde held out her hand to him and shook it with a smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you finally, Gareth. I've only heard wonderful things about you."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that." He replied with a wink as he guided Bridget into the dining room.

Isolde was seated at the opposite side of the table from Gareth and Bridget. With her Mother and Father on the ends. Isolde smiled but then noticed that the table had an empty place setting next to her as well.

"Mum, did you mean to put out an extra plate?" Isolde said with a curious quirk of her brow.

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" She said looking rather confused.

"Tell me what, Mum?" Isolde continued not understanding what was going on.

"Your mother ran into Vincent at the market the other day, and mentioned that you were coming home. Naturally, he inquired after you and then your Mother invited him to dinner." Her father responded rather calmly.

Isolde however began to choke on her wine, as she managed to swallow it the wrong way in her moment of shock. Vincent, you see, was her first boyfriend and the only one she ever brought home to meet her mother. A rather horrible chapter in the life of Isolde Prichard that she was rather fond of forgetting. However, her mother never let go of the hope that one day she might have Vincent as a son-in-law and kept pushing him on her daughter.

As if on cue there was a knock at the door, and Cordelia rose to get the door. She returned a moment later with a hulking man who had a strong chin and a distinctly Roman looking nose. His grey eyes brightened at the sight of Isolde and she managed a weak, if not forced smile.

"Isolde, you remember Vincent." Her mother began.

"Of course I remember Vincent, Mother." She snapped.

From across the table Bridget pleaded with her eyes for Isolde to remain calm and make it through the dinner. Isolde managed to last fifteen minutes without rolling her eyes, stabbing herself with her steak knife or feigning illness when the comments started to flow from her mother's mouth.

"Isolde, really I never knew how you let Vincent go..." Isolde covered her eyes with her hand as she bit down on her tongue to keep from lashing out.

"He's such a charming man, and is considered quite the catch among the other girls." Her mother continued.

"If he is such a catch Mother, why hasn't he married one of them?" Isolde spat back.

"Because...I've only ever had eyes for the one.." Vincent replied looking directly at Isolde.

"Isolde, Mother...please. Can we keep this civil? We have guests." Bridget said through clenched teeth.

"Bridget is right, Isolde don't upset your mother." Her father said sternly, surprising even Isolde.

"If you'd excuse me, I feel a bit of a headache coming on." Isolde said while throwing down her napkin and heading up to her room.

She shut the door behind her, making sure to lock it as well before she ran a frustrated hand through her hair. Seeing Vincent again was like having a red-hot poker shoved against a nerve, it was excruciatingly painful and made you want to scream.

Isolde had been nineteen, when Vincent had begun to court her. He was new to Alston, and had been truthfully the first boy to ever ask her on a date. They had been together for nearly half-a-year, when he tried to get her to marry him. Isolde had told him that she was far too young, and they hadn't known each other long enough to make such a decision.

The truth was that Isolde did not, and could not ever love Vincent. Having forsworn any marriage without love, it was impractical to consent to him. But Vincent was relentless in his pursuit, eventually dealing a physical blow to Isolde which caused her to pack up and move to London.

She glanced out her window, seeing that she had about an hour before the sun would set. Which would give her just enough time to get to her secret place. Isolde's secret place was hardly a secret, but when she was there she felt at piece and separate from the world. She grabbed a light jacket, and put on a pair of old trainers before sneaking out her bedroom window.

"How old are we now, sixteen?" Isolde muttered under her breath as she scooted down the drain pipe landing in the garden below with a soft thud.

Straightening her clothing she headed out the back gate down the path that would take her to Hadrian's Wall. When she was little she used to play upon the wall, always drawn to the impressive structure that stood as a testament to Rome's influence on Britain. She hadn't been there in almost four years, and she couldn't wait to once more watch the sunset from atop the stones.

When the Wall came into view, she smiled and broke into a youthful sprint, evendoing a cartwheel in her excitement. Unfortunately she slipped, and landed on her back with an oomph. Caught up in her laughter, Isolde neglected to notice that a man who had been standing near the wall had extended his hand to help her up.

A soft clearing of his throat, drew her attention to him. And the first thing she thought upon seeing him was that he looked very familiar. She smiled as she gave him her hand and he hoisted her on to her feet with little effort.

"You took quite a tumble there, though it seems you were having a good time of it." He said in a heavily accented voice.

"Thank you, I suppose this should teach me once and for all to stop acting like a child." Isolde headed over to the wall and rested her arms upon it as she looked out at the sky.

"Beautiful isn't it? I've never seen anything like it." He replied as he stood next to her.

She turned her head to properly survey him for the first time, his high-cheekbones, and somewhat shaggy hair were attractive to be certain. He was tall and built of lean muscle, which she could see beneath his button up shirt.

Isolde hoisted herself up on to the wall and sat with her legs dangling off the high end as she continued to watch the sun's descent. She patted the space next to her and gave him another smile. Isolde couldn't figure out for the life of her why she was smiling so damn much, but she attributed it to being in her favorite place in the whole world.

He hopped up gracefully and sat down next to her, his posture perfect and his eyes constantly searching the landscape with its rolling hills, and the shimmer of the water of the far of lakes.

"My name is Isolde." She said finally not tearing her eyes from the vista before her.

"Tristan." Came the short reply from the quiet man next to her.

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_So let me know what you think about this and if I should ever continue it or leave it as is. Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

A/N: _Wow. So I really wasn't expecting to already have nine reviews when I just posted it late last night. I guess that it goes to show, that you never know. Thank you to Katemary77, the sarahnater_, _jenni, Sekhmet88, Essenceofcrazy, Daydream1, hunt4max, KnightMaiden and of course Mistaken Love (glad you liked your cameo.) The only thing I can think of since you all seemed to enjoy it, is that I will continue it. I just made more work for myself now because that means I'm juggling three stories on plus a screenplay that I'm doing with friends. Phew... Anyway, I have no clear plan for this story, so I'm just going to let it go where it goes. To answer a few questions, yes you may see a few familiar knights lurking about, and no Gareth is not a reference to a King Arthur legend, he comes strictly from my imagination. Thank you all again, and please review afterwards._

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They sat there in a comfortable silence until darkness claimed the sky. Tristan was the first to jump back down from the wall, landing perfectly and turned to look up at Isolde. She had positioned herself at the edge of the wall so that way she could follow suit, but Tristan surprised her by reaching up and grasping her at the hips, helping her down. Isolde felt comfortable in this stranger's arms, his scent of his cologne filling her nose as she steadied herself on his chest.

"Thank you." Isolde said softly while looking up at him through her thick lashes.

He didn't respond but inclined his head to her. Isolde realized that Tristan wasn't a man to waste himself with words when a simple action could convey the same meaning after having known him for only an hour. She put her hand out for him to shake to say goodbye, but he took it in his own, brought it to his lips and kissed it softly. Tristan made a mental note to think his womanizing friend later for that move.

Isolde couldn't help but smile to herself as she walked away from him back to the path that would lead her up to her house. Glancing back over her shoulder she watched Tristan's back retreat in the opposite direction. No sooner had she turned back to her own path, did Tristan turn to watch her form, only a mere silhouette against the darkening sky as she climbed over the hill. The ghost of a smile played over his lips before he headed down to the side-street where he had parked his car.

When Isolde returned to her house later that evening, she could still not wipe the smile off her face. Pushing open the front door, she didn't think twice about who may still be in the house or not. Thankfully, Vincent had left after the dinner fiasco. But unfortunately, her family still lurked there.

"Isolde! Where the hell have you been? Your mother's been worried sick!" Her father said sternly.

Isolde rolled her eyes at him and took off her jacket placing it on the back of an arm chair.

"I am twenty-five years old, I didn't think I had to clearly everything I did with you. And we both know mother doesn't care about me, she cares that I embarrassed her in front of the precious Gareth and Vincent." Isolde spat.

"Isolde, I admit inviting Vincent without your consent, was rather rash and inconsiderate to you. But he has changed otherwise I would never have agreed to it. But don't ever accuse your mother about not caring about you. Sure she may not show it, but she loves you." Her father had disappointment in his eyes and that hurt Isolde more than his words.

"Dad, I didn't mean..." She started but he held up a hand.

"Don't say it to me...tell your Mother. She's upstairs in the bedroom." He said pointing to the staircase.

Isolde took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, stopping at her parent's room open door to knock a few times on the frame. Her mother sat at her vanity, running a brush through her hair and glanced at Isolde through the mirror.

"Mum...look I'm sorry that I ran off like that." Isolde said softly before walking up to her mother and taking the brush from her and starting to brush the long strands herself.

"Isolde...I just want you to get married, settle down, have children. The Lord knows I'd like to be a Grandmother before I die. Vincent is a good man, he loves you, he always has. You know that he's never even dated since you broke it off with him? He's not entirely without appeal, that poor waitress down at Bors' and Vanora's pub, has been making eyes at him for the past year and he still hasn't given her the time of day. Sweetie... for me please just have dinner with him, that's all I ask. Give him a chance, you won't regret it." Her mother reached up and squeezed Isolde's hand.

"Fine...just one dinner. And its gonna be in a very, very public place." Isolde warned.

"Of course sweetheart, whatever you want."

Isolde finished brushing her mother's hair before leaving to return to her own room. When she passed by Bridget's room she was surprised to find Bridget was alone in it. Isolde sat down next to her sister and playfully hit her with one of the many throw pillows.

"Oy, watch it. If you weren't my favorite sister, I'd duff you up." Bridget replied with a smile.

"I'm your only sister, you dolt...Want to tell me where Prince Charming ran off to?" Isolde said getting straight to the point.

"He had to return to London. Apparently there is this new case about someone coming forward to claim a very large Estate. But that's alright, cause now it means I get to spend some time with my family." Bridget said with a forced smile.

"Well, a large case is good. I mean, he'll make a lot of money on it, right?" Isolde said trying to stay positive.

"Right... So where did you disappear off to tonight?" Bridget said changing the subject.

"I went down to the Wall to think a bit." Isolde didn't realize that her face had lit up when she thought about Tristan.

"Isolde, don't get me wrong here. But if a Wall has the ability to make you glow, you've been without a man for far too long..." Bridget watched as Isolde's cheeks turned pink at the mention of a man.

"Oy, you do have a bloke then? Who is he?" Bridget said channeling the energy of a school girl.

"I don't have anyone... But his name is Tristan." Isolde said softly.

"I don't know any Tristans, but oh for Pete's sake...So when are you seeing him again?" Bridget asked taking Isolde from her reverie.

"How about never?"

"Never? What do you mean never? Isolde Pritchard you better see him again. If he can make you glow like this just from talking...I mean...think of the possibilities!" Bridget said grasping her by the shoulders.

"First of... you are entirely pervy. Second, I don't know how to get in touch with him. And who's to say he'd ever want to see me again? I'm not you Bridg, boys don't have competitions to kiss my feet." Isolde looked down her eyes full of sadness.

"Have I taught you nothing? When you meet a man who is utterly incredible, you get his phone number, you give him yours and you find out his place of employment. For heaven's sakes, I mean, Isolde you can't just let things pass you by." Bridget had gone into a full on rant and it was slightly scary.

"Look, I don't have time for any Tristans. I am never going to see him again, besides Mum is making me have dinner with Vincent." Isolde said sorrowfully.

"Oh no! She didn't! And you agreed to it?" Bridget said shocked.

Isolde stood up and ran her hands through her hair in frustration as she looked back at her younger sister. Bridget would never, ever understand Isolde. Glancing around she looked at a picture on her sister's mirror. It was from Guy Fawke's night, they had gone to a party where the theme was space-age tarts. Needless to say the clothing or lack-there-of left something to be desired.

"I can't believe you still have this."

"Please, that's like my favorite picture I have of you." Bridget said coming up to look at it.

"But I look like a drunken whore..." Isolde protested.

"I know." Bridget said with a smile.

Isolde slapped her sister's arm and walked out across the hall to her own bedroom.

"Goodnight, Bridget." Isolde said with some finality as she shut her door.

"Night" Bridget called from across the hall.

Isolde changed into her pajamas, and removed her contact lenses before stretching out her limbs. Her entire body was exhausted having had an early start that morning. But she knew she would never be able to go to sleep until she wrote all about today in her journal. Isolde went through a journal a month, and had been keeping journals since she was ten. Needless to say, an entire trunk at her flat in London was full of the things. But she was a big believer in keeping details accurate, always capturing every emotion felt at every moment, every memory close to her heart.

She pulled out a pair of cat-eyed glasses from her purse, along with her favorite ball point pen and sat cross legged on her bed as she wrote. It took her almost an hour to get down everything she wanted to say and with a resounding thump, she shut the journal and put it on her bedside table.

Lying back on the bed, she didn't even make it under the blankets before sleep took her. She had even neglected to remove her glasses, or braid her hair. But she didn't care, because she slept well in that house for the first time in years, as she thought about endlessly dark eyes hidden behind dark hair.

The next morning she woke up refreshed. She set her glasses down and had started to reach for her contacts, when she picked up her glasses again and set them firmly on her face. Isolde was determined to do everything right today, and she had no intention of wasting twenty minutes of her life attempting to get those things on to her eyes. After a quick shower, she popped downstairs and grabbed a scone from the counter. Her family had not bothered to wake up yet, and understandably so since it was only 6 in the morning on a Saturday no less.

Grabbing her jacket from the chair she had left it on, she checked to make sure her keys were still in the pocket. Feeling the familiar metal and hodgepodge of key chains in her hand, she slipped it on without a second thought and headed out to her car. She slammed the door shut, and momentarily held her scone solely in her teeth as she attempted to fit the key in the ignition. Clicking on the radio, because driving anywhere was futile without having good music to listen to, she scanned a few stations but came up with nothing worth hearing, just a bunch of sub-par pop stars who were worse than the Spice Girls in her opinion.

She reached across into the glove compartment and pulled out her cd case. She cycled through a few mix cds before she found the one she was looking for and popped it into the player. A few moments later she was met with the ridiculously catchy melody of The Proclaimers "500 Miles." Singing as she drove, especially when no one was in the car to hear how bad she actually sounded was a favorite pastime of Isolde's. She drummed her hands on the steering wheel to the beat as her head bopped back and forth.

Her destination was in the heart of town, which was normally a ten minute drive from her house. But Isolde was so caught up in the moment with her singing that she ended up driving around for close to half-an-hour before she pulled up outside her favorite coffee shop in all of Britain.

It was a small café, situated on the corner where the High St met the town square. The woman who owned it was probably dearer to Isolde than her own mother, because Elanore Sinclair always was capable of brewing the perfect cup of coffee and to Isolde, coffee was more plentiful in her body than her own blood.

It took her a few moments to park, and when she finally entered the store she inhaled deeply the rich aroma of coffee beans and freshly baked muffins. Her dark eyes sought out the greying hair of Elanore, and she seemed utterly disappointed when she didn't see the woman anywhere in sight.

With a huff she walked up to the counter and rang the small silver bell to get the man behind the counter's attention. He gave her a smile, and walked over to her, his short yet scruffy beard unfitting on his boyish face.

"Hello, what can I get for you today?"

"Hi, can I have a Hazlenut Coffee, with light cream and two sugars..wait make that three..." Isolde rattled off, looking up from her purse only when she noticed he was staring at her oddly.

"Isolde...I honestly don't think you need anymore sugar." He said seriously.

"Wait...How did you know my name...Oh my... Galahad, bloody hell you grew up!" Isolde impulsively reached across the counter and pulled him into a hug.

"Gee, had I known that you would warm up to me like that I might have said something earlier...by the way your coffee is on the house." He said with a goofy grin.

Isolde smiled back and returned her wallet to her purse before shaking her head in disbelief as she looked at him again.

"I am still having trouble processing that you are the same little boy who I used to babysit, who once ran around the house wearing his father's kilt and naught anything else, screaming 'I am William Wallace!'"

"Isolde, can you not mention things like that here?" Galahad said under his breath as some of the customers had turned to look at him.

"You know I love you," Isolde took a sip of her coffee, "And now that you've made me a perfect cup of coffee I love you even more."

"I thought I heard racket out front," Came a kind voice belonging to none other than Elanore.

The old woman came out from behind the counter and gave Isolde a firm hug. When she finally let go, she instructed Isolde to spin around in a circle which did obligingly, her long curls flowing out as she did so.

"You look wonderful sweetheart. London seems to agree with you quite well." Elanore's blue eyes twinkled at her.

"I love it there, but I miss your coffee terribly." Isolde said as she clutched the cup close.

"Well you could always move back home..." Elanore suggested playfully.

"Is that before or after I sell my soul to Satan?" Isolde joked.

"So sweetheart, how long are you here for?" Isolde took a swig of her coffee as she grew enticed by a caramel swirl apple muffin staring her down in its display case.

"Just till Monday, then I am back in London till the wedding." Elanore took the muffin out and placed it in a bag handing it to Isolde.

"But, Isolde, how am I to wine and dine you and otherwise win you to my bed if you are leaving on Monday?" Galahad joked.

"Oh, well you could shave that silly fuzz from your face for a start. Thanks for the coffee and the muffin, I'll be back in tomorrow and we'll have a proper chat." Isolde called from the doorway before exiting the shop to the tinkle of its bells.

Savoring her coffee, Isolde drove back out to the Wall to have what was in truth her second breakfast. Her stomach fluttered with the thought of seeing Tristan there again and she chastized herself for thinking about a man who she hardly knew.

Climbing up the hill she found that no one was at the Wall. Her heart sank and she hoisted herself up on to it, enjoying the warm muffin and what remained of her beverage. The wind whisked her hair back away from her face, before switching directions and giving her hair cause to fly into her mouth. Her attention was peaked however when she saw a hawk flying low above her. It surprised her by diving down low and landing just a few meters away down the length of the wall.

Breaking up her muffin, she threw a piece to the bird, who merely looked at it quizzically before taking off again. Isolde was disheartened, how could the hawk insult the amazing muffin like that? That was one of Elanore's muffins, a perfect muffin!

"She only eats meat." Came a voice from behind her.

Isolde nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized whom it belonged to. Her Tristan had come back. That was a weird concept, her Tristan. He was in actuality hardly her anything, except maybe acquaintance.

"But not even a pure carnivore can resist a caramel apple muffin. Its scientifically proven." Isolde said with a smile and broke off another piece handing it out to Tristan.

He took it from her hands with a nod of his head and popped into his mouth, his tongue darting out to catch the crumbs on his lips. Isolde was drawn to this action, and didn't realize that he saw her staring.

"You are right. I don't know what that bird was thinking." He answered before hopping up next to her and taking more of her muffin.

"Whoa, whoa. Don't go eating all of my muffin!" Isolde said covering the precious item with mock offense while her eyes twinkled with amusement.

"I wouldn't think of doing so, M'Lady." Tristan said putting on a chivalrous tone.

"And good Sir, what would you think of doing?" Isolde said playing along.

"Well, first I would find myself a horse, then I would slay a great dragon hoping against hope that my act of bravery would win me the muffin." Tristan kept a face of perfect seriousness.

All Isolde could think about was that he should most certainly play poker, as no one would ever be able to read him.

"Can you even ride?" Isolde said breaking their charade.

"I can actually." He replied as he stole another piece of muffin, but Isolde didn't seem to mind.

"Really? That surprises me."

"And why is that surprising?" Tristan said, his tongue darting out again and once again distracting Isolde.

"I honestly don't know. I felt like being difficult." She replied honestly offering him the last piece of muffin which he declined.

"Can I ask you a question?" Isolde said after a few moments of silence had passed between them.

"Hmm?"

"This is a pretty small town, and though I've been gone for a little while. I have never seen you in my life. So what brings you all the way to the lake country?"

Tristan took a moment in answering, his brown eyes fixed upon hers with an intensity that she had never known. It was almost like he was reading her, analyzing every glance, every breath to see if their was honesty in them.

"Business actually...I am here on behalf of an old friend. He sent me ahead to scout out some property he was interested in." Tristan answered.

"Oh.." Isolde said slightly disappointed.

Had it been a permanent move to this sad town, she would have found a reason to visit her parents much more often. He seemed to notice the change in her but she played it off with a quick smile.

"Well, I hope that you enjoy your stay here in Cumbria." Isolde said shortly before hopping down from her perch.

She had begun to walk back to her car, when Tristan's voice halted her.

"Isolde...Will you meet me here tomorrow?" His voice was so calm but she could detect a hint of nervousness behind it.

"I..uh...erm...shouldn't...oh piss it." She stammered.

"What did you say?" He said confused by her mutterings.

"I said what time?"

"Whenever you wish it."

"Midnight?" She offered with a quirk of her brow.

"Isn't that a trifle bit late?"

"Only if you don't see the fun in it. Have you no sense of adventure?" She said smirking.

"No." He said smiling broadly for the first time.

"Ha! Goodbye, Tristan." She called over her shoulder.

Isolde wanted to burst into a thousand squeals, giggle with her face in a pillow and spin around until she grew dizzy. What on earth had she gotten herself into?


	3. Chapter 3

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

A/N: _I have decided that even though characters may have the same name as they did in the past, that it isn't going to be addressed by the characters. Of course they grew up knowing about King Arthur, they are in Britain, that's a given. But the fact that they all seem to have the same names just isn't going to impact the story in any shape or form. That being said, keep in mind that love is never easy and there are always obstacles. That I think is what this story is going to evolve into, a story about overcoming obstacles to get to what you want. And though I didn't state this previously, I think you all know that if I owned anything I wouldn't be on Thanks to my reviewers: _

_Prissy and Bregan- I am glad you enjoyed this so much. And I saw the trailer for that movie also, it looks like it could be good. And don't you worry, your other favorites are a part of this story._

_Jenni- Does Tristan seem that way? I think it is more that he is just drawn to Isolde, this crazy insane woman who is a free spirit. To be quite honest, I think Isolde has a better idea than he does at this point._

_Daydream1- I love your hyper nature. The movie is out this January actually. And I'm very glad you enjoy my story and find it to be realistic. And I had no idea that Lancelot and Gawain were disco Kings, you learn something new each day. :) _

_Also thanks to LancelotTristanBaby, Hunt4Max and Ancalime! To the rest of you, keep reading and keep reviewing._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde was smiling like an idiot the entire drive home. Laughing to herself about the strangeness of the situation she watched the scenery fly past, letting her hand glide upon the air as it hung out the window. Waiting as a group of teenagers with their own Bridget at the center of the pack crossed the road, Isolde was too distracted to notice that she was across from Vincent's house.

He however, saw Isolde the moment she pulled up and he rushed out to greet her. The sound of his voice calling her name destroyed her moment of perfect bliss and she looked up at him. The smile she wore for Tristan was mistaken as a look of elation for seeing him and he grew more bold.

"Isolde, I am sorry about what happened last night at dinner. Honestly, I did not think...if I had thought it would have upset you as it did, then I would not have accepted your Mother's offer."

"Vincent, its fine...really." Isolde said quickly.

"If you would let me make it up to you, I mean we can just go grab a pint down at Bors' & Vanora's and just talk some things over. We left a lot unsaid..." He trailed off and gave her the smile that he only reserved for her.

"You know what? Lets have that drink...and we'll talk everything out that way it can stop being awkward, deal?" Isolde said remembering what her Mother had said.

"Brilliant! You won't regret it I promise you. How about I pick you up at around 7?" Vincent continued.

"Vincent, its stupid and pointless for you to come get me when you live half-a-block away from the pub and I'm a good fifteen minute drive out of the way. If you want I can swing by and get you, or we can just agree to meet at 7."

Isolde did not want Vincent picking her up. If Vincent picked her up, he would think it was a date. Her Mother would think it was a date and that they were getting back together, and then she'd start planning for a double wedding.

"Alright, alright. You try and be a gentleman and they become feminists. You try to respect their dominance over you, and treat them as equals and they become critical saying chivalry is dead. I can't win with you, can I?" He said chuckling.

"Probably not, but that has never stopped you from trying. I'll see you at seven."

Isolde waved and sped off back in the direction of her house. However, she had one important stop to make to visit a very old friend before she would return to the zoo that was her childhood home. After a successful visit, and an assurance that everything she had asked for would be ready for her later, she regretfully went home but not before taking the long way back.

Her afternoon was spent appeasing her Mother, by "visiting" old friends. In other words, Cordelia wanted to drag Bridget and Isolde around to their neighbors houses to show them off. Bridget was obviously there to display the giant rock that had attached itself to her ring finger, and Isolde was there for 'moral support.'

After being so helpful to her Mother and sister, she managed to escape to her bedroom feigning a headache and took an hour long nap. (Well at least it had started off planning to be a two hour nap but some how along the line it evolved into three.) Waking up she realized that she looked hideous, her hair was sticking out every which way but the right way, her clothing was entirely wrinkled and there was a slight discoloration of her chin where she had drooled on herself.

"Perfect. It will scare away Vincent, then I can let Tristan think I'm crazier than he already believed." Isolde muttered as she pitifully tried to adjust her appearance.

She glanced to the clock and saw that it was 6:15 and she began a string of courses which would make a sailor blush. Throwing everything from her bag on to her bed she realized she had brought nothing suitable to wear. Isolde assumed that this weekend would be spent like all the rest, listening to her mother rattle her about anything and everything until she locked herself in her room and read.

Drastic times, called for drastic measures and taking what little dignity she had left, Isolde marched across the hall and knocked on Bridget's door. Her sister opened it slowly, surprised by Isolde's appearance.

"What on earth? Did Mum need me or something?" Bridget said tapping her foot as she crossed her arms.

"No..Is it really that bad? Look Bridget, this kills me to say this. Trust me, but if you could lend me something to wear tonight I'd take back the statement I made about you being the promiscuous spawn of Satan." Isolde blurted.

"The what!" Bridget's mouth fell to the floor.

"Oh...well..yeah you see...sorry about that? But really, can I just borrow something?" Isolde pleaded.

"What are you getting all dolled up for anyways?" Bridget stated as she walked to her closet and pulled open the doors to reveal an array of stylish clothing.

"I am meeting Vincent for drinks... then I am meeting Tristan." Isolde said slowly.

"Wait...You, Isolde Pritchard, are going out with two men tonight?" Bridget said in disbelief.

"Yes.." Isolde muttered as she looked at the clothes half-afraid and unsure of what to wear.

"On two separate dates?" Bridget continued.

"Yes...stop badgering me and just help me find something to wear...please?" Isolde pulled out a slinky black dress and held it up to her body but Bridget snatched it out of her hand.

"You are in no way wearing my Dolce & Gabana dress. Besides, you'd stretch it all out and it wouldn't look good."

"Alright...sheesh. How about this?" Isolde pulled out another dress, except this one was saffron colored and made of a light weight cotton material.

"Honey, you aren't going to the beach. Ok, so drinks first... that's easy enough. But are you coming home after or going straight out with Tristan?" Bridget queried.

"I am not sure." Isolde said looking confused.

" Right, so one outfit for the evening. Ok, put on these jeans, this halter, and that leather jacket. Wear your black boots, a touch of eyeliner, some blush, a clear gloss on your lips and straighten your hair."

"Bridg, I don't have time for all that... I have to meet Vincent at 7." Isolde protested.

Bridget just pushed a phone into her older sister's hands and yelled at her to call Vincent telling him to meet her at 8 instead because Bridget was having a "wedding crisis." Following her instructions, Isolde did just that and Vincent seemed slightly annoyed but willing to reschedule.

Hanging up, she quickly showered and changed clothing. Finding that the jeans and leather look actually suited her quite well. She had begun to apply her make-up when Bridget burst in and took the eyeliner out of Isolde's hand doing it for her because apparently it wasn't even. Then Isolde was forced into a chair where Bridget meticulously straightened her hair, so that the mass of curls that had gone to the middle of her back was now silky straight and fell to her hips.

"Isolde... let me cut it." Bridget whined.

"No, absolutely not you are not touching my hair!" Isolde screamed.

"Please, please, please. Its just so... boring to have hair like that." Bridget scrutinized.

"My hair is not boring thank you very much." She huffed.

After hearing a screaming match taking place upstairs, Cordelia arrived on the scene with a few choice words for the girls who were making so much noise when Parkinson was on. Instead she found a very glitzy Isolde, and Bridget fighting over a pair of scissors.

"Girls stop this at once!"Cordelia shouted and both girls cowered away.

"Now, will someone tell me without having a screaming fit, what is going on?"

"I think Isolde should cut her hair." Bridget said firmly.

"I couldn't agree with you more." Cordelia stated.

Isolde sunk down in the chair. Her hair, her precious hair that she had only cut once in her entire life, ( Galahad put gum in it when he was six) was going to be hacked off. It was like losing a limb, and she wasn't about to go without a fight.

"No." Isolde crossed her hands over her chest.

"What do you mean 'no?' " Bridget said, her mouth hanging open.

"No, I don't want ridiculously short hair like you, I personally think long hair is more feminine and pretty than what you did to yourself."

"Excuse me, 'what I did to myself?' Isolde, open your eyes, this isn't the medieval times, its 2005. Please, do us all a favor and try and look presentable for once in your life." Bridget spat.

"Give me the scissors Bridget, I'll do it." Cordelia took the silver sheers and stepped up behind Isolde.

Isolde tried to get up to run away, but she was pushed back down into the chair and a towel was wrapped around her shoulders. Then she felt it, the dreaded first cut and the weight being lifted from her head. It was like she had nerves in each strand of hair, and every cut just made her sink lower and lower into herself.

"There, we are finished." Cordelia said smiling.

Bridget looked it over and smiled widely as well. Isolde looked at her hair through the mirror while hiding partially behind her eyes. What she saw made her drop her hands completely, her mother had been remarkably kind to her, only taking off 6 inches of hair instead of the original foot threatened by Bridget. It was still rather long, but it wasn't impossible.

"I can't believe I let you do that." Isolde stammered.

"Yes well, you look better for it. Now, finish getting ready, its almost 8 o'clock." Her mother shooed her from the chair, brushing any stray strands from her outfit.

Finally when Isolde found freedom, it was five minutes after 8 and she had to speed to make it to the pub without appearing really late. The pub was unusually packed tonight, but when she saw that a football game was on the tele, she understood why. England was famous for their football hooligans, and Isolde was damn proud to claim she could be one as well.

Standing on her tip toes, she saw Vincent was sitting at the bar and she took the stool next to him with a large smile. It took Vincent a minute to register that he was looking at Isolde and he spat his beer back into the bottle.

"Blimey, Isolde. You look wonderful." He said recovering slowly.

"Thank Bridget for that. All of this was against my will." Isolde signaled to the woman behind the bar, Vanora that she wanted a Guiness, before taking off her jacket and setting it on her lap.

"I will the next time I see her." Vincent said with an appreciative glare.

"Well, well, look who we have here Bors' the loudest, foul mouthed Manchester United supporter in all of Cumbria." Vanora called to her husband who was at the other end of the bar.

"Yeah, well she should stop looking so smug now that Manchester lost Beckham." He called back as he served a few more men.

"Its good to see you to Bors." Isolde said with a smile

"Aww.. Come here darling. How've ye been, eh? London treating you alright?" He said as he came around the bar and picked Isolde off the floor giving her a crushing hug.

Bors was hardly a small man, and though he could be as gentle as they come if the mood struck him, he wasn't a man to mess with. Vanora threw a dish rag at her husband, who had only wedded her after the birth of their fifth child last summer, and yelled at him to set her down.

"London is wonderful. The pubs are rubbish, they've got nothing on yours." Isolde said returning to her seat.

"That's right. You here that everyone, Isolde here says I have the best pub in all of England!" Bors roared over the noise to receive a chorus of cheers.

"I forgot how much everyone here seemed to love you." Vincent said taking Isolde's hand in his.

Isolde pulled it away and pretended to have to adjust her contact lenses, while giving him a brief smile. She wasn't ready to have Vincent touch her again any time soon, not after what he did.

"Naw... they just missed having something to look at other than Bors' bald head." Isolde shouted, receiving an "I heard that" from across the room.

"I know I missed you." Vincent said softly.

"Well, you know what? You should have thought about how much you were going to miss me, before you hit me." Isolde spat.

"Isolde, here isn't the place for this." Vincent said fearing for his life, if Bors knew that Vincent had laid a hand on Isolde, he'd break his neck for sure.

"You are right, you don't even deserve public humiliation. Why did you want to meet me here tonight, in all honesty Vincent what did you think was going to happen?" Isolde pushed.

"I thought that you might see that I've changed... That maybe we could get back what we had alright?" He spat as he clenched and unclenched his fists, a move not missed by Isolde.

"Vincent, I've moved on. You should too. Look I'm sorry if you can't get over what happened between us, but I have. Now if you would please excuse me, I have to go to the loo." Isolde shoved past him and negotiated through the crowd.

Once inside the bathroom, she went into the nearest stall, shutting the seat and sitting down upon it as she pulled out her cell phone. Isolde had no idea of who to call, but decided that her flat was a safe place to start. It continued to ring until the machine finally picked up and she started laughing to herself over the message: "Hello boys and girls, you've reached Karissa, Shelby and Isolde...we cannot in any condition come to the phone right now. So you know what to do, leave a message after the beep, cheers loves."

It had taken them seven separate attempts to record that without one of them saying something out of sync or cracking up laughing, and you could still here the occasional giggle on the one they ended up using.

"Hello Karissa and Shelby, its your favourite roomate. I just wanted to check in to make sure that you didn't set the bloody place on fire with your horrid cooking. I'll be home on Monday, see ya then pets."

Isolde hung up the phone and briefly adjusted her shirt before heading back out to the bar. She saw Vincent with the waitress her mother had mentioned yesterday hanging all over him. Isolde fought back the urge to scream out "Wench!" But she realized, what did she care? Vincent was not her boyfriend, and being jealous over him was a waste of time. Walking casually over to her stool she picked up her jacket and slipped it on tossing a fiver out on the bar counter for her beer.

Vincent looked startled and started to push the waitress off him but Isolde stayed him with her hand.

"No, don't get up. Honestly, wouldn't want to interrupt something. Just so you know sweetheart, he snores, is a lousy shag and drinks milk from the carton."

Isolde surprised herself with her boldness, attributed it to the stout alcohol and without turning around walked out of the pub into the cool night air. Now that Vincent was out of the picture, she only had to worry about Tristan.

Tristan, the enigmatic man of mystery who stole her muffin and Isolde was afraid that in time he could easily steal her heart. No, she was over reacting, he wouldn't do that. This was an infatuation nothing more. Once the glamour of their meetings disappeared he would be just like any other man, and she would go back to being the girl in the shadow of her younger sister.

But at least she had tonight, and she intended to make it count. Leaving her car outside the pub, she walked off her buzz and headed to finish off the surprise that she had begun to work on for Tristan.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_One...two..three...Scream with me AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Now, that I've gotten that out of my system, let me say that I am as addicted to this as you all are. And you are probably wondering, how does that work, she's the author she knows what's going to happen? Well, I don't. I have no idea of what's going on in the story till I write it. I will try and get chapter 4 up tonight so we can see her meeting with Tristan. But I make no guarantees. Review if you can and Happy Holidays!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

A/N: _Firstly, I want to wish everyone Happy Holidays and to thank you all again for showing so much love and enthusiasm for this story. I honestly, grin from ear to ear when I read some of the nice things you have all said in your reviews. And since it's the season for giving, I am going to be very generous and give you a very long chapter that will make you sigh. And now to my reviewers:_

_W1cked Angel- I think we all wish we were British. I know I wake up every day and think, "damn why wasn't I born British?" _

_hunt4max- Sadly, I am not British. But the fact that you thought I could be one makes me very happy. I just tend to watch a lot of British movies and the BBC all the time so I know some British slang. Hmm, and as for their first "real date" you may have to wait a while. As for their first truly romantic encounter, you will get that in this chapter._

_Jenni- I am not sure if Isolde will be telling Tristan about Vincent right now. That is something very personal that her own family doesn't even really know about. And as Tristan is currently just a very yummy acquaintance, we won't get to see him pummel Vincent anytime soon._

_Daydream1- You are still my craziest reviewer. Thank you for the chocolate covered Knights, I plan on having a good time with them. And the reason why I update this fast is because the story just comes to me that fast. Also, can you tell Gawain that when he mangles people, he should avoid getting blood on the carpet? Thanks._

_Prissy and Bregan- I am glad you are in love with my story, if you'd like to marry it however, I want a dowry of at least Tristan. And as for adopting me, well I am not so sure my family wants to give me up, but if you ask nicely they might._

_Thank you again to Sekhmet88 and LadyMarek. _

_-Sings- All I want for Christmas... is... REVIEWS:)_

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_"Let me spin around till I am so dizzy that I can't feel the ground beneath my own feet. Let me scream out nonsensical words at the top of my lungs just because I can. Let me jump in and out of puddles till I am utterly soaked. Indulge the child in me for every second that I live and I'll let you in to my Neverland." _- Isolde's thoughts on love in her journal

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Tristan stood leaning against the wall with a relaxed elegance that presented an air of nothing but calmness. Truthfully, he had begun to doubt himself when it was drawing closer to midnight and Isolde had yet to appear. Idly he twirled something between his fingers, distracted by its movements.

Then a noise caught his attention, it was the sound of a low whistle. He glanced around but the foggy night didn't provide much help in revealing the source of the sound. Then he looked down across the other side of the wall, and he saw her.

Isolde smiled up at him as she trotted closer on a beautiful chestnut stallion, leading a dappled grey behind her. She caught a look of mild surprise on his face at the sight of the horses, though it was only there for a second.

"You said you could ride!" Isolde called up to him beaming.

"Aye, I did...you don't forget anything do you?" He responded with a light laugh as he hopped down from the wall and walked up to the grey who was leery of this stranger.

Glad that he didn't overdress for the occasion, he swung himself up into the saddle, taking a few moments to adjust the reigns and whisper some soothing words in the horse's ear. Isolde watched him amused by his way with animals, as the grey calmed considerably.

"Well, you know how to get on a horse, and tame a horse. But how fast are you on a horse?" Isolde said quickly before kicking the stallion's side with her heels hard and dashing off at a gallop.

It only took Tristan a few moments to catch her up, and she was surprised at his deftness and aptitude on horseback. Isolde had been in the saddle as soon as she could walk, and she hated to admit that this strange man was better than her.

"You cannot possibly win, dear Tristan so don't even try." She called over her shoulder.

She turned her head to look at him, her long black locks dancing across her face as the wind swept past and she laughed sticking her tongue out him like a small child before making for a patch of trees. The path here was narrower, and was littered with low tree branches. Isolde saw one and swung herself up, crouching upon the branch allowing her horse to continue on down the path.

Tristan pursued hard, riding underneath the very branch where Isolde lay in waiting. She breathed in deeply, when she was sure he had past and dropped down to the ground slowly. Isolde was about to head down the path to collect her horse, when she felt something tickle her ear with a soft caress. She giggled, as anyone who is ticklish is won't to do when presented with such a situation and turned around to see Tristan arching a brow as he spun a feather around in his fingers.

"You are too good at sneaking up on people." Isolde said with a smile.

"So my mother always told me." He responded while holding out the feather to her.

She took it, her hand momentarily brushing against his. As she inspected the feather, she noted it belonged to a hawk, but he couldn't have kept a feather from the hawk from yesterday could he have? Running it over her palm, she was surprised to find that the tip had been sharpened into a point, so that it could be used as a quill.

"Is this..." Isolde started to question when he grabbed hold of her right hand and held it close between them running his own hands over hers.

"Your finger here, bares a callous, and the tips of your fingers have ink stains. I thought that someone who writes as much as you might appreciate such a gift."

Isolde was at a loss for words, how could this man have been so observant of her to notice that she always wrote? She thought back to their conversations to see if she mentioned anything of her journals, but she knew that she hadn't. All of their conversations if you could call them conversations never touched upon the other's lives. It was if they had wanted to remain a mystery to each other.

She was so enraptured with her thoughts that she did not notice that Tristan still held her hands in his and was now stroking the backs of her fingers with his thumb. It was such a natural feeling, almost like deja vu to be here with him in this moment that she did not question it at all.

"Ever since I was little... I always wanted to remember everything, every tiny little insignificant detail about my life. So I kept a journal... then one turned into, two, two into three and so on and so forth...The quill is lovely. Thank you." Isolde said softly.

He kissed the tips of her fingers, then the underside of her wrist, before holding her hand in his and leading her back up the path. She saw that he had tethered not only his horse, but hers as well to a low branch and the two animals were happily munching away at the undergrowth.

"Where too?" He asked after he swung himself back on to his horse.

"Neverland...Or at least my version of it." She replied with a hidden smile.

They rode out of the woods the way they had came, and seemed to enjoy the companionable silence. Tristan had been born silent, and appreciated the conviction that Isolde could show him in one look without having to use a word. All she would have to do is smile and allow her eyes to light up and he was lost.

Isolde on the other hand, was like the sea, she could be calm and gentle or furious and passionate if the mood struck her. She was afraid that if she said something wrong, or out of place that the entire illusion of their being together would be shattered. Like this was all just a dream, and she would wake up to find that Tristan had never been there.

Eventually, they reached the edge of a lake so glassy and expansive that it resembled a large mirror as opposed to a body of water. Tristan hopped down from his horse, and helped Isolde down from hers even though they were both fully aware that she was able to get down on her own.

"You call this your Neverland...And I can see why.." Tristan replied his voice soft and rich in the silence of the night.

"You haven't even seen the best part...come on." Isolde reached for his hand, finding it without ever really looking and led him to the water's edge where a small peninsula jutted out.

She lied down upon her back, and instructed him to do the same, their hands still entwined. Taking his hand she pointed up to the starry sky at a particular cluster of stars.

"See those ones right there?" She asked in far off voice, "That, my dear Tristan is Orion. The great archer, and his famed belt. My grandmother once told me that I was a daughter of Orion, born to be like Artemis and run about with a bow in one hand and whisper to the animals. Everyone thought she was crazy, but I think she knew me better than anyone else."

Not wanting to interrupt her train of thought Tristan just allowed the sound of her talking to wash over him immersed in the soothing feel of it and how it seemed to rise with excitement at the proper moments or draw quiet at others.

"I miss her..." Isolde trailed off.

She felt Tristan squeeze her hand to let her know that he was still there and she rolled on to her stomach to look at him, propping herself up on her elbows, while her long black hair fell about her face.

"And what of you Tristan, tell me something of your past..." She plucked a long strand of grass and tickled his nose with it.

"As a child I was sent to a military school..." He began.

"How terrible for you..." Isolde said sarcastically.

"It was something all the men in my family did, and so I was no different. There I met three of my closest friends who all seemed to share my fate. Lancelot was always brooding, never wanting to be there but he was certainly ever so charming with the ladies. And Gawain... he was always humorous, good natured...like you. But Arthur, Arthur was an idealist. He became our Captain, and I've been working for him ever since." Tristan snatched the piece of grass away from her.

"They sound interesting...Maybe I should meet this charming Lancelot or Gawain? I am certain they would not eat half of a lady's muffin without asking." Isolde hit him playfully.

"You are by far the strangest woman I've ever known..." He said as he reached up and tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear.

"And was that your own way of giving me a compliment? Or was it meant to be an insult?" Isolde tried to remain serious, but her eyes only showed bemusement.

"An insult clearly." Tristan replied maintaining his composure.

Isolde moved so that she was straddling him, and attempted to choke the life out of him. Unfortunately, her hands were not quite large enough to fit around the circumference of his neck, and it was futile. Tristan let out a real laugh for once instead of his controlled snicker, and reached up easily switching positions with Isolde so that she was now trapped beneath him, her hands pinned on either side of her head.

She looked up at him, his long hair framing his face and his dark eyes staring into her own. It reminded her of their first meeting only two days ago. Two days, seemed like an eternity to her.

Isolde continued to keep his gaze from underneath her thick lashes, and finally something clicked in both of them. It was like finding an answer to a question that has plagued you the moment you least expect it.

His hands released the grasp on her wrist, and he lowered himself over her lips. Tristan seemed to hesitate, but Isolde was not going to let him get away that easily and she reached up forcing his lips to come crashing into her own.

William Goldman, said in his book The Princess Bride that there were 5 great kisses in the world and the one shared between Wesley and Buttercup blew them all away. Had Goldman bore witness, to Tristan and Isolde there would be no contest between them.

This kiss was not of lust nor did it have any doubts. They were as sure of themselves as it is certain that the sun always rises. Isolde felt her stomach become a thousand butterflies and float away as she shared with this man, who she felt as though knew her since her first breath, a perfect kiss.

That isn't to say that at first it was cautious and torturously slow, but it gradually became more and more relaxed. At some point Isolde had tangled her hands in his hair, and his own hands had found a resting place on her hips.

When they broke apart it seemed to draw away part of themselves. Isolde could only look up at him and blush slightly before smiling at him. Tristan let his own hands caress the side of her face, not knowing what to say for it was as if words were not appropriate.

Isolde finally felt his welcome weight, shift from her to lie back down on the grass. It disappointed her, and she let her smile fade. But Tristan snaked an arm around her waist pulling her into him so that their bodies molded together side by side.

"Tristan?" She asked softly.

"Yes?" He responded while staring up at the vast sky.

"After tonight, what is going to happen?" Isolde's voice seemed afraid and uncertain.

"We cannot know, Isolde..." He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it.

She stopped her thoughts when he said her name. The way he pronounced it, it was almost as if it was a name that had always been lingering upon his tongue. So familiar, yet reverent that it surprised her. What was even more surprising, was that until now she had noticed it.

Isolde shivered as the night was growing colder and leaned into Tristan even more to feel his warmth. But Tristan decided that it was a good time to get up so Isolde ended up falling back on to the grass.

"Oww." She said with a dramatic pout.

"You are freezing, and I think it might be best if we return the horses to the stables." He said as he pulled her on to her feet.

"Right..." Isolde said growing even more disappointed.

The road back to the stables in relative silence. By the time that she saw that the horses were in their stalls brushed down and their tack put away it was nearing four in the morning. Tristan sat down on a bale of hay as he watched her move to make sure everything was in perfect order before she joined him, sitting on his lap. Isolde let out a yawn in spite of herself, and leaned against Tristan already half asleep.

The stables were roughly a ten minute walk from the inn where he had rented a room for his stay, and he decided that he would bring Isolde back there instead of waking her. He assumed that she wouldn't mind, so he thought nothing of it when he carried her in his arms back to the inn.

He moved silently as not to wake anyone, and had a bit of tricky negotiating to do while he tried to unlock his door and hold Isolde at the same time without dropping her. Finally, the lock turned and he carried her into the room, setting her down on the bed. He carefully removed her jacket, allowing his hands to slide over the smooth skin of her shoulders as he did so. Then he removed her boots, examining the painful looking heels with a curiosity before setting them on the floor.

He tucked her into the bed, and was staring at her when she spoke startling him nearly half to death.

"Are you going to tell me a bed time story too?" She opened her eyes looking at him with a smirk.

"If you wish it." He replied as he removed his own jacket folding it before setting it on a chair.

He undid his shoes, stepping out of them so that only his socks remained. Then he started to undo the buttons of his shirt but thought better of it as he did not want to make Isolde uncomfortable. Isolde watched him with great interest, every movement he made was graceful yet supported with a strength that she found very appealing.

When he hesitated with his shirt, Isolde felt reluctant. She slid from the bed sheets, and began to undo the buttons herself. Her hands trailed over his muscular form, taking the shirt off easily and folding it as he had done before setting it on the side.

There was no overriding need to be overtly sexual with him. She gave him a smile as she traced a scar on his back that looked like a rather nasty gash, and another on his side that went from his ribs to his stomach. Isolde made a note to ask him how he received those later, but for now all she wanted was to go to sleep.

Leading him back to the bed, she climbed in once more and held the covers open for him to join her. Tristan slid into the space, and she relaxed against him, his larger body spooning her own. He entwined his hands with hers again, feeling as though he had to always maintain contact. Her hair lay beneath her exposing her neck to him and he placed a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin.

The scent of lavender radiated off her body and it made him immediately fall into a trance of sleep.

Isolde dreamt again that night of a mysterious man who could take her breath away and knew her every thought. He had taken her to a garden, and there she had marked his face with tattoos, and he repeated the same action on the back of her neck. She didn't need to ask to know what that gesture meant. She was his and he hers.

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_Thank you to everyone for reading this. I just wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas again and please review! _


	5. Chapter 5

Timeless by SheWalksWithRavens

A/N: _ I just want to defend my choice of having the romance start a tad bit early on in this story. First off its modern-era, and the characters are both adults so it isn't weird for them to kiss and what have you so early on. Secondly, they are drawn to each other in a way which makes them immediately fall into that relationship role. But that being said, I hope you all enjoyed that chapter. And don't kill me for this one, just remember that love is never easy._

_Wanderer of the Roads- I am glad my story makes you smile, I tend to smile myself when I am writing it. As for my writing being romantic? Well, isn't every girl a bit of a hopeless romantic at heart?_

_Jenni- Yeah, it was kind of a fluffy chapter, I'm happy you enjoyed it._

_KnightMaiden_- _...Don't kill me hides_

_And thank you to Wild-Vixen, MORWEN12 and LancelotTristanBaby_. _To everyone else, please take the time to review. And no hurting the authoress after this chapter._

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Tristan awoke with a mouthful of hair. Once he got the stray curls off his tongue with a bit of a disgust written on his face, he realized who the hair belonged to. And that, the very same some one who's hair he just choked, on was still sleeping peacefully next to him in the bed.

Isolde had taken him by surprise in every sense of the word. She mumbled something in her sleep, and rolled over to face him. Tristan pulled her hand up and kissed it until her eyelids fluttered open.

"Hello..." Isolde whispered.

"Good morning." Tristan replied with a smile.

"Have I been asleep for too long?" Isolde said as she started to get up, but Tristan's arm held her firmly in place.

"No...stay." He almost looked like a child who's favorite toy was about to be taken away.

"Tristan, we can't lie here all morning."

"Really? And what's to stop us?" He said with a raised brow before Isolde's stomach grumbled and she blushed slightly pink.

"My stomach for one, the fact that I need to get home so my family does not worry is another. And that I need to pack...I'm leaving tomorrow morning." As soon as these words left Isolde's mouth their perfect little fantasy world came crashing down in a thousand shards.

"Tomorrow morning? For where?" Tristan's face remained impassive as he spoke.

"London. I am only here to visit my family, but I need to get back to my apartment, my job and my life." Isolde slipped his arm from her body, sliding out from the bed, as she walked to the chair to put on her boots.

Tristan slowly disengaged himself from the covers and ran his hands through his shaggy hair. His dark eyes watched as she zipped up her boots, wondering if he'd ever see his mystery woman again.

It was at that time that fate decided to be cruel to Tristan, and his cell phone rang. Padding over to the dresser he grabbed the sleek silver phone, not checking to see who it was calling before picking it up.

"Hello?" He said slightly frustrated.

Isolde watched him as he listened intently to whatever was being said to him, muttering an occasional "yes" or "no" as he paced back and forth glancing out the window. Then whoever was on the other end must have said something shocking because Tristan looked up at Isolde with a mixture of hurt or was it fear in his eyes before saying a quick "goodbye" and hanging up the phone.

"Who was that?" Isolde asked with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Arthur... he wanted to know how I was doing in acquiring information regarding the Estate." Tristan replied averting his gaze.

Isolde thought this was odd, but did not remark upon it. Tristan walked up to her and tilted up her chin so that she was forced to look into his eyes, the look he was giving her was one she had never received before. It was not of intrigue, love or lust, but it seemed to be a farewell. He briefly touched his lips to hers before pulling away.

"Wait here one moment, I just want to take a quick shower and I'll give you a lift back to your car."

"Alright..."

Tristan disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Isolde saw his cell phone had been left on the table, and she found it impossible to not check. Had Tristan looked her in the eyes, she would never have doubted him. But, the fact he couldn't look at her put her ill at ease.

She glanced up at the bathroom door, it was still shut. Her hand timidly reached out for the phone, flipping it open. She clicked the button for the menu, then scrolled till she found recent calls. The name she came up, was as she feared not Arthur. It was instead "Lana."

Her heart stopped, and she quickly shut the phone putting it back where she had found it. Grabbing her jacket, she was about to walk out the door and leave without saying goodbye to Tristan. But when her hand touched the cold brass handle, she found that she couldn't.

"It shouldn't be this hard, you haven't known him for that long. You didn't even sleep with him, and yet you are acting like he betrayed you on the highest level. Just wait for him to finish his shower... give him a smile. And walk away." Isolde told herself.

A few minutes later Tristan emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hand as he worked to dry his hair. Had Isolde still not been in shock, she might have taken a moment to admire the view. But her mind was elsewhere and she couldn't care less what Tristan was wearing, or not wearing.

"I forgot my clothes." He said shortly, before grabbing a t-shirt, a pair of jeans and boxers out of the drawers and retreating back to the bathroom.

He was dressed and was about to grab his keys to drive her back when her hand stopped him.

"You don't have to drive me back Tristan. I kind of want to walk, get my thoughts in order...It was good to have met you. Thanks for a nice evening." Isolde stood on her tip toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

She had gotten part way down the hall, when Tristan pursued her. He didn't understand why she was leaving it like this. Didn't she want to see him again? What had happened to make her change so suddenly?

"Isolde! Wait." He called to her as she neared the top of the stairs, and she turned around to look at him.

"What's the matter?" Isolde said putting on a mask of friendliness.

"How can you just leave it like that?" He said slowly, trying to read her eyes for any hint of emotion.

"Leave what Tristan? You don't even know me and I don't know you. We had a fun weekend, it was what it was." Isolde was screaming on the inside, but he would not have known it.

They were far too similar for their own good. Both too stubborn to back down, to guarded with their own thoughts and emotions to see what lied right in front of them. He nodded his head to her, and headed back into his hotel room.

Isolde made it all the way to her car without having a break down. But once inside the safety of something familiar, all her strength seemed to fade away. It seemed to her, that she would never find a guy who she could be herself with and not get hurt by, they were all Vincent's in her book.

She made it home in record time, oddly enough, she actually wanted to see her parents and her sister. They were concerned of course, that Isolde had only just arrived this morning. But she told them she had spent the night at Elanore's wanting to catch up with her old friend.

"Isolde, can I talk to you for a minute?" Bridget said with a twinkle in her eye as she lead Isolde out into the hallway.

"What's the matter?" Isolde said slowly.

"Like hell I don't know what happened, you silly slag. You slept with him!" Bridget's eyes lit up hungry for gossip.

"Bridget please, I did not _sleep_ with him. I spent the night with him, but we didn't have sex." Isolde folded her arms over her chest.

"Well?" Bridget goaded nudging Isolde playfully on the arm.

"Well what? There is nothing to tell. We had a late night, I stayed at his place because I was too tired to drive home, and here I am." Isolde continued down the hallway up the stairs to her bedroom.

"When are you going to see him again?" Bridget continued following her sister.

"I don't think I am going to Bridg. It was just a fling if you could even call it that. Besides I'm going back to London tomorrow so it would be stupid to try and start anything with him...Oh don't give me that hurt look." Isolde explained before shutting Bridget out of her room.

Isolde sat on her bed her journal out in front of her, and she was about to lie down to get more comfortable so she could write, when she felt something jabbing into her side. Sticking her hand into her coat pocket, she felt the quill that Tristan had fashioned for her lingering there and she picked it up looking at it with a sadness for what could have been. She could not bring herself to throw it away, so instead she opened up the trunk at the foot of her bed, where all her oldest memories lay and placed it amongst them it would be in good company there.

It was nearly three when Isolde left her house again to visit Elanore and Galahad one last time before heading back to London. She had donned a rather large hooded jumper, and a pair of loose fitting track pants, tossing her hair up into an unkempt bun. Isolde didn't really care how she looked right now, she just wanted to say her goodbyes to her old friends. Get home, go to sleep early and be on the road first thing in the morning.

"Isolde...I thought you said you were coming in this morning for coffee." Elanore said slightly confused, but happy all the same that Isolde had come at all.

"Yeah, I overslept, I must have been more tired than I thought. But if I could have some now, I'd love you forever and ever." Isolde sat down at the counter, and smiled at Elanore when she began to brew her cup of coffee.

"Galahad will be sore that he missed you..." Elanore stated.

"Is he not working now?" Isolde said slightly put out, she had hoped to catch him before she left, but now it looked like she wasn't going to see him.

"No, on Sundays he's only here till about noon, then he has the rest of the day off. You know he hasn't shut up about you being home since you arrived."

"I doubt that. But please give me a ring, come visit me and bring me coffee when you do." Isolde took out a pen and wrote her number on her receipt handing it to the older woman before drawing her into a tight hug.

"Oh, we'll see. Now, you take care of yourself...I mean it Isolde. I know you, sweetheart. You bottle it all up and then you explode. And I'd hate to be the person that it happens to."

Isolde gave Elanore one last smile and the woman handed her a bag which she assumed to be some of her pastries, before getting back into her car. She opened the bag, and saw her usual scones, but she also saw a caramel apple muffin. She tossed the bag into the next seat and drove off back to her house.

"Isolde is that you?" Her mother called from the kitchen when Isolde got back in.

"Yes, mum. What did you need?" Isolde said as she came into the kitchen to see her mother struggling with about a thousand different things for the dinner.

"Sweetie, can you please cut up those peppers for the salad and set the table? Bridget and your father ran out to the store for me, and I wanted to have all this done by the time they got back." Cordelia said her face flustered.

"Sure. No problem." Isolde said calmly, as she took a knife and began to slice up the vegetables.

"So, I ran into Vanora today, and she said something about Vincent..." Her mother began as she pulled the steak and kidney pie from the oven.

"Mother, please. Can we not talk about him tonight?" Isolde said softly.

"Oh, I wasn't going to badger you about it, if that's what you were thinking... Listen. She told me that she saw him with that waitress. I don't blame you for it honey. We'll just find you someone else, maybe Bridget can help you out? I'm sure Gareth has a few single friends. So turn that frown you're wearing upside down."

Isolde's mother could be entirely clueless at times, but she supposed her heart was in the right place, even if her suspicions weren't. Isolde took the finished salad, and brought it out into the dining room setting it down as she went about putting out plates and silverware.

"Honey, we're back." Came the gruff voice of Harold from the entranceway.

"Oh perfect, the pies just come out of the oven." Cordelia shouted back as she swept into the dining room with her elegant grace and set it down upon the table before gesturing everyone else to their seats to eat.

"Bridget, do you want to give them the good news... or shall I?" Cordelia said beaming.

"Mother...I think I'd better." Bridget said standing up slowly.

Isolde looked at her father, but he seemed as clueless as she was as to what was going on.

"Gareth and I set the date. We are getting married in London, Isolde so you won't have to travel up here. We chose December 15th, cause that's when his grandparents got married. Oh its so exciting! We have so much to do." Bridget squealed.

"Congratulations, darling. Just don't make me go broke with this one...hmm?" Harold said as he got up to press a kiss to his daughters forehead.

"Wow..that's...soon." Isolde said slowly.

"Gareth didn't see the point in waiting...Oh mum we have to go to that dress shop that I loved when we were in Glasgow.."Bridget's voice slowly faded out as Isolde became lost in her own thoughts.

The wedding was to be held in three months, and no doubt Isolde would be subjected to countless fittings of horrid bridesmaid gowns, dragged to thousands of stupid locations and swept up into the planning of her sister's big day, when she only wanted some time to herself. At least, it would give her something to take her mind off of what could have been with Tristan.

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Tristan had gone out to the wall in hopes of finding her there. It was a rather foolish notion, but he had to hope. But, Isolde was not there. There was no beaming smile, no contagious laugh, nothing. He inhaled deeply as he let the wind whip across his face staring out over the countryside that had been their playground the night before. He hadn't planned on Isolde, Lord knows that. However after last night, he wasn't planning on losing her either. "The best laid plans of mice and men..." He muttered before heading back to his car which was already packed up full of his belongings and left Cumbria.

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_Please, please don't shoot the author. They will meet again, I promise you. But you honestly didn't think a man as amazing as Tristan would be single did you? So review!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

A/N: _Happy New Year! And welcome back. I know that none of you wanted to see Isolde and Tristan split up, but trust me the story will be better for it. I am glad that no one has shot me yet over it also, so thank you. The story is now going to split slightly to follow their separate story lines until they meet again, and you know they will. So I hope you like this chapter. To my reviewers:_

_Jenni- I am happy to answer your questions. You will get to meet Lana, in this chapter in fact. As for what she said to him, it won't ever be entirely discussed, but you get an idea of what they were talking about in this chapter. And Lana isn't going to know about Isolde anytime soon._

_Wild-vixen- The relationship of Lana and Tristan as you all know has to end. Because this is a Tristan/Isolde story. But how and when it ends is what you should be curious about._

_KnightMaiden- I promise to put Isolde and Tristan back together again so long as I don't get shot. It just might not happen for a few chapters. _

_Daydream1- You are still the craziest reviewer. As for the rabid pirates, I don't think they'd make it into my house unfortunately as I have Captain Jack guarding my house. But Galahad is free to go in my underwear drawer whenever he wants. _

_LadyMarek- Isolde is a naturally curious person which is why she picked up the phone. And I agree, you will feel bad for Lana because there is no way she can compete with Isolde._

_Hunt4Max- Sorry to disappoint you, but Lana is definitely the girlfriend. Actually, fitting Tristan in to the modern world has been rather hard. But I am trying. As for British accents, I act so I can do cockney, received pronunciation, Scottish and Irish accents. I like to scare people by doing them, its great fun._

_Prissy and Bregan- I had not the intention of making Lana your stereotypical evil other woman character. I always found it to be more interesting if both characters are likeable so don't worry, Isolde isn't turning into your Mary Sue victim anytime soon._

_Thanks to: MORWEN12, Wanderer of the Roads, Dferveiro and Chelsss. To everyone else: Please please review!_

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Isolde awoke the next morning after tossing and turning all night. She couldn't get over how stupid she felt. Why would a guy like Tristan waste his time on her? Feeling rather depressed and somewhat peckish, Isolde walked like a zombie down to the kitchen and took a seat at the table.

It was Harold who was cooking breakfast today as opposed to his wife, and he noted the bedraggled appearance of his eldest immediately. Taking biscuits out of the toaster oven he set them down on a plate and brought them over to the table with some strawberry jam.

"Alright Isolde, tell me what's wrong." He said matter of factly.

"Nothing...I'm just tired." Isolde replied with a yawn for dramatic effect.

"Isolde, you can lie to save your own bloody arse. Now you will tell me what's wrong, or you are not getting any biscuits." He held the plate away for effect and Isolde glared at him.

"Dad, I am only going to be saying this the one time. After that I fully expect a biscuit... I am tired, I am also not looking forward to having to deal with Vincent further because you know he'll be at the bloody wedding. I just want to get back to London and my life..." Isolde spat out.

"Alright, Alright. Here's your biscuit. You try and do the right thing and they snap at you. I honestly wish that Bridget had been born a boy, then I'd only have to deal with two women running about the house." Harold muttered under his breath as he picked up the paper and began to read it.

Isolde picked at her biscuit, finding that her appetite was less than it should have been. Leaving half of her meal on the plate, she excused herself from the kitchen and went upstairs to finish packing. She smiled when she saw that her mom had done her laundry for her and had left it neatly folded on her chair. That was one good thing about coming home, free laundry. She shoved her clothes into her bag minus the outfit she would wear back to London and headed into the shower.

When she closed her eyes all she could see were his staring back at her. No matter how hard Isolde wanted to forget those eyes, she was convinced they would haunt her for the rest of her life. But haunt wasn't the right word, because to be haunted is to be made uncomfortable by them and all those eyes did were connect to her soul. Isolde was concentrating so hard on not thinking about Tristan, that she didn't even notice when her skin began to become waterlogged.

Finally when the water began to run cold, Isolde turned off the shower and got dressed. When she had finished with her toiletries she put them away in her bag. The last thing to get placed inside was her journal. She looked at her right hand, and saw the callous that Tristan had so gently caressed before forcing the image from her mind and zipping up the duffel.

Downstairs she gave her father a huge hug, a lesser one to Bridget who insisted that "they would have to have lunch one day at Gareth's favorite place" and finally she barely hugged her mother, who didn't seem thrilled with the prospect of prolonged body contact with her eldest either.

Isolde threw her bags in her car, turned on her stereo, and drove off. She found herself driving towards the wall, but in the chance that she might see Tristan there she decided against it and got back on the main road.

"At least in London I'll never see him again." Isolde said to herself as she ran a hand through her long locks.

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"Tristan!" Arthur shouted for the third time.

He didn't know what was bothering one of his oldest friends, but Tristan was never one to space out. Finally, Tristan looked back at Arthur and raised a brow as if to ask what he wanted. Arthur motioned to the large conference table where he was working on their latest project. This project however, was a bit more close to home than usual.

Arthur had come into possession of a great deal of land in Cumbria from a distant relative and he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. Arthur was engaged to Guinevere, a pretty fiery girl he had met through her father and he decided that the perfect wedding present would be a country house in the lake country. He had sent Tristan ahead in hopes of gaining more information as to the area, the people etc. However, all Tristan seemed to do since he got back was to stare off into the distance and become even more stoic than usual.

"Lancelot's been negotiating on my behalf with the bloody solicitors. Thankfully, he's just as blood thirsty as they are and won't relent our claim. So, now that you've been to Cumbria, what do you think of it?"

"It's a small town area, mostly working class people. The land is beautiful, Guinevere will appreciate that I should think." Tristan said after a moment.

"Are you feeling alright, Tristan?" Arthur said tired of beating around the bush.

"Fine." Was his response, and Arthur knew from that alone that trouble was brewing.

"Alright, I don't need you for the rest of the day. And I'm sure you are tired, so you should go home and get some rest." Arthur clapped him on the back, and Tristan disappeared from the room.

Tristan's apartment was located in the South Kensington area of London. It was rather large considering for the most part it was just him and Lana, yet the apartment had 3 bedrooms, but Tristan primarily bought the place because of its proximity to the gardens and trees. It was kept simple, decorated in an Asian style that Tristan seemed to favor with bamboo plants, low tables and his prized antique katana that hung over his couch.

He tossed his keys down on the table, and headed into his kitchen to grab himself an apple from the fruit bowl. As he cut it into pieces, he noticed that he had a blinking message on his answering machine. He knew who it was before he pressed play, but he did it anyway and his suspicions were confirmed.

"Tristan, its Lana. Listen, I know you couldn't talk long yesterday. But I figured we could do something special tonight, you know just the two of us. I'll be home around five. Anyway, I've got to run. They need me back at the shoot. "

Tristan shrugged. Lana was a beautiful girl by anyone's standards, even Lancelot was surprised when Tristan landed her. She was tall with an athletic build, sparkling green eyes and soft blonde hair. Tristan had known Lana since she was small, having befriended her older brother Dagonet at school. She was always a little sister to him, but to Lana, Tristan was the love of her life. However, when Tristan met her again she was a grown woman and it was easy for his brotherly affections to turn into something more.

They had been together almost three years, and everyone fully expected Tristan to ask her to marry him. And for a while he had considered it, he had even gone to look at rings but ever since he met Isolde he had begun to question his and Lana's relationship. He loved Lana, he was almost entirely sure of it. But never once when he was with Lana did he feel like he was when he was with Isolde. However, Isolde didn't seem like she had ever intended to see him again. No, Lana was the one.

Padding from the kitchen to the master bedroom, he stretched out his arms above his head. Looking at his bed, he knew he wasn't tired, but if he was spending the night with Lana, he might as well get some rest in now.

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Isolde wanted nothing more than to go straight to sleep when she finally got back to her apartment. But she knew that the moment she opened the door, a pile of dirty dishes, and a mess of magazines and dirty clothes would be everywhere. That was just how Shelby and Karissa were, pure monsters.

Turning the key, she was pleasantly surprised when the place looked...clean. Taking a moment to step back to make sure she was at the right apartment, she stepped back inside, dropping her duffel in the hallway.

"Shelby? Karissa? Are you slags home?" Isolde called.

"Who are you calling a slag, eh?" Shelby shouted back from the kitchen.

Isolde walked to the sound of her voice and found Shelby eating beans and toast while looking at the magazine Premiere Londonium. She turned the page to see a gorgeous model posing in an impossibly tiny dress while holding a very cute golden retriever puppy.

"See...Isolde, why can't I look like that?" Shelby said through a mouth full of food as she pointed at the blonde.

Isolde took the magazine from Shelby and looked at the photograph with disdain before tossing it back to her roommate.

"Because Shelby, women like that don't exist. Its just pure smoke and mirrors. They airbrush the bloody crap out of them, starve them for weeks. Really, show me a woman who honestly looks like that without the aid of a professional hairstylist, diet pills and make-up and I'll finally give your magazines credit." Isolde said as she went into the cupboard and pulled out her favorite mug.

"You were the wrong person to ask anyway. You never care about how you look. So how were the folks?" Shelby asked as she tried to imitate the sultry gaze the model was doing.

"The same as always. Bridget finally set a date, so now I have to help with the wedding. Please feel free to shoot me at any time."

"I am simply gutted for you, Isolde. Really, I am." Shelby said with utter sarcasm before Isolde smacked her upside the head.

"Quiet you. You don't know what its like having to listen to how perfect Gareth is all the time. And then my mum is going to get on my case about finding a bloke...its just a pain in the arse. I'm only 25, I've still got time for all that and the like. Why can't she just leave me be?" Isolde fumed as she heated the kettle for her tea.

"Because Isolde, you are her eldest daughter. And though it pains me to say this, she is right. Why shouldn't you get out there and play the field? I mean before you know it you'll be 30, then you'll only have a few good years left for having kids. I know what we'll do, tonight you and me and Karissa are going to go out on the town and we are going to find you a man." Shelby said with a glint in her eye.

Isolde merely poured her tea, stuck her tongue out at her friend, and headed over to the reception room to relax. The last thing Isolde wanted was a night on the town.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Tristan awoke to the pleasant smell of cooking coming from his kitchen. He only took a moment to indulge when he snapped entirely awake. He didn't leave anything on the stove did he? Tristan slowly wandered into the kitchen where he saw Lana's long form cutting up peppers at the counter. He came up behind her, snaking his arm around her waist as he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. Lana smiled and popped a pepper into his mouth before resuming her cutting.

"You looked so peaceful sleeping, I didn't want to wake you." She explained as she popped the peppers into the pan with the other vegetables she was stir frying.

"I'm glad you didn't, waking up to this was much better." Tristan disengaged himself from her body as he began to set the dining room table.

"So how was Cumbria?" Lana called from the kitchen.

Tristan's body became tense, yet his face remained impassive. He had delayed too long in his response so Lana thought he had not heard her, and she wandered into the dining room spatula in hand.

"I said 'How was Cumbria?'" She repeated.

"Fine, beautiful countryside there." He replied turning to look Lana in the eyes.

She gave him a beaming smile, and headed back into the kitchen to make sure their supper didn't burn. Tristan finished setting the table in silence, lighting the candles and dimming the rest of the lights in the room.

A few moments later Lana came out of the kitchen with two dishes in her hand of vegetable stir-fry, Lana being a vegetarian, and white rice. She set them down at their place settings, and Tristan being a gentleman helped her into her seat then proceeded to pour each of them a glass of wine.

"So how was the shoot today? You sounded a bit stressed on the machine." Tristan asked while holding his wine glass.

"You know models, all they do is complain. I can't wait until I finish my contract with Premiere Londinium, that way I can go back to finishing my collection that way I can do a gallery showing. I mean don't get me wrong, its brilliant to get paid so much for one day's work, but I want to be able to take pictures that will change people's perspectives." Lana responded .

Tristan nodded his head to her, just letting her talk out her problems. Lana never accused Tristan of being quiet, she merely thought of him as a good listener. And Tristan was happy to listen, he knew how stressful her job was.

"I mean, its not like we need the money, we live rather comfortably. And if I get this out of my system now, when we get mar-," Lana started but she caught herself, " I mean, if we get married, someday, then I'll be able to hunker down and really make this work."

Lana blushed a few shades of red and went back to eating her meal. All of her friends thought she was stupid for not dropping more hints to Tristan about getting married. Three years was an awfully long time to remain attached to someone without even asking her to get married. Sure he asked her to move in with him a two years ago, but that was only after she suggested it a few times.

Tristan looked at Lana, who he could see was mentally kicking herself for brining up the idea of marriage. But it was he who should be embarrassed about this. Tristan knew that Lana's friends and family, were concerned as to why Tristan hadn't proposed yet. Dagonet had even come to him once, and asked him that very question. Tristan couldn't give him an answer. He always was just a fan of not altering a good thing, but maybe he needed to sacrifice his principles for Lana. Taking a deep breath, he made a resolution then and there, to go back to the jewelers and find the perfect ring for Lana and to put all thoughts of the girl at the Wall behind him.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Isolde Pritchard, did you cut your hair!" Karissa shouted when Isolde came out of her room with her hair down wearing her robe.

"Mum did it. And I actually kind of like it." Isolde said with some finality.

Karissa was the loud one in the house, always blasting her music, or shouting things from one end of the apartment to the other. Shelby and Isolde assumed it must be an American thing for a while, until they realized that Karissa was just unnaturally hyper.

Karissa was already dressed for their girls night out, with a bunch of bracelets adorning her arms, a cute band t-shirt on top, and a jean skirt with a studded belt on bottom. A few moments later Shelby came out in knee high stiletto boots, a short black mini-skirt, an off-the shoulder baby blue sweater, and wearing sunglasses, even though it was night time already.

"Isolde, why are you not dressed yet?" Shelby said, tipping her glasses down to get a better look at her roommate.

"Yeah...yeah...I'm going." Isolde said with a wave as she headed into her room.

Isolde came back a few moments later, wearing black pants, a sparkly tank top, and the leather jacket she "accidentally forgot" to give back to Bridget. Karissa made a cat call when Isolde walked out of her room and she gave them all a bit of a spin before bowing.

"Isolde we are going to find you a man so attractive, that you won't know what hit you." Shelby said with confidence.

"Hey, so long as he's straight, has a job and isn't a psychopath, I'm all game." Isolde said with a laugh.

The three women linked arms, and headed out of their apartment for Shelby's favorite dive in all of London.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_A/N: I hope you all liked it, and remember to review. In the next chapter, they may... or may not meet up again in London. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

_A/N: So "Tristan & Isolde" comes out today, I think as fans of this we all should go check it out. I honestly had high hopes for the movie, but the way they are doing T.V. spots for it makes me question it overall, then again it could just be bad marketing. Oh well, I shall see. As for this story, hopefully you guys will enjoy this chapter. When I woke up this morning, gears were a-turnin' in my head. _

_Thanks to my reviewers will now be included at the end of each chapter ( I can't believe I already have 50 reviews from you all) , that way you all can get straight to the story. So please read and take the time out to review. _

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Isolde if you don't hurry your fat ass up, I swear to God I will come back there and insert my stiletto in it.." Shelby called back to Isolde who was taking her sweet time catching up.

Isolde dug her hands into her pockets and lengthened her stride so that she matched theirs. It honestly wasn't her fault that she was shorter than them and therefore couldn't walk as fast. The nightclub they were going to wasn't far enough for them to need to use the Tube, and it was still warm enough where they didn't need to take a taxi either.

The Crystal Underground was located in the Soho area of downtown London. It was considered to be a relatively new club, but an exclusive club nonetheless. If you wanted to mix with London's elite you went there. Now, Shelby, Karissa and Isolde were obviously not London's elite. However, Shelby the eternal vixen was sleeping with the head bartender which equated to the guest list and free drinks for her and her friends. At the door stood a pair of imposing bodyguards dressed in matching black suits, the most muscular of the two holding a clipboard.

"Hey J.J. mind lifting the velvet rope?" Shelby called out as they approached.

"For my favorite lady, of course." He obliged Shelby and she blew him a kiss as she dragged Karissa and Isolde inside.

Isolde felt a bit odd when they bypassed the line of people and walked straight into the club. Her first impression of the place was that it was very dark with blueish gray spot lighting here and there. They had to walk through what appeared to be a tunnel with downward slant, and eventually they came out in the main room.

The dance floor occupied the center of the room, with a raised platform lit from underneath to give it a silvery glow. A bunch of people were already moving to the hypnotic music, dancing amongst the fog of the machines. It wasn't too fast and loud, but more of slow and sleek pulsing sounds that made dancing to it look extremely sensual.

Along the outside wall, were dozens of small tables, and the bar. The bar consumed one whole wall, and was littered with every kind of alcohol you could imagine. They made their way in that direction first, and grabbed bar stools while Shelby got her boyfriend Mark's attention. When Mark came over, they immediately began to make out over the counter which caused Isolde to turn her attentions elsewhere.

She felt very warm, and she knew that checking her coat would be a very good idea. Pulling Karissa along with her, they headed back to the coat check they passed when they first entered the room.

"This place is really..." Karissa started to say when Isolde cut her off.

"...Like a vampire layer?" Isolde responded.

"I was going to go with cool looking, but now that you say it, it does make sense." Karissa took off the jacket she had put on before they left and handed it to the woman at coat check.

She handed Karissa a ticket which she shoved into her pocket, and Isolde did the same thing. Without the jacket she felt rather naked, then again her entire back was exposed, as various silver straps criss-crossed her back.

"Isolde, my god. You own a shirt that Shelby would wear!" Karissa said when she saw.

"I do, but the thing is, Shelby would wear this in broad daylight, where as I will only wear it to a nightclub." Isolde retorted as they headed back to the bar.

Unfortunately for them, their stools had been taken, as Shelby had been a bit too preoccupied to save them. Sitting in their places were two men in their late twenties. The one on the left had tawny hair that had been dredded and pulled into a pony tail that fell just to his shoulders. He was otherwise clean shaven, and was currently sizing up Karissa.

Karissa gave him a smile and went to the otherside of Shelby to order her drink, a screwdriver and continued to exchange glances with the man. Isolde called out for a shot of Jack Daniels which she downed in a second slamming it down on the bar. The other bar stool usurper laughed at how quickly and easily Isolde downed the drink.

Isolde turned her dark eyes to look at him in detail for the first time. He was quite possibly one of the most attractive men she'd ever seen with dark curls, long lashes and a devilish grin. Obviously, he was trouble... just attractive trouble.

"Karissa, Shelb come dance with me." Isolde called to them as she started walking backwards towards the dance floor.

Her friends came out with her and they formed a small triangle as they moved to the music. Shelby was by far the best dancer, but she was also the one who practically lived in a club every night. Karissa could hold her own, but she was no where near as provocative as Shelby was. Surprisingly, Isolde could dance as well but where as Shelby looked sexy doing the moves, Isolde looked a bit mysterious.

The song ended and as another began, Isolde felt a pair of arms encircle her hips. She turned her head to see the dark haired man from the bar, who merely winked at her and began to match her movements perfectly. Shelby and Karissa each shared a look that seemed to state "mission accomplished." As Isolde was preoccupied with her mystery man, her roommates slipped back to the bar.

"What's your name?" Called the tawny haired man over the music to Karissa.

"Karissa, you?"

"Gawain, are you an American?" He said with a bit of shock as he heard her speak.

"Born and raised...Came here though, for University. Found that the University didn't fit well, but London did. So I stayed..."

"University? How old are you then?" Gawain said a bit apprehensively.

"Old enough." Karissa replied as she took a shot of Vodka.

Back on the dance floor, Isolde allowed herself to forget about the rest of the people in the club and shut her eyes. As the hands of the man she was dancing with raked across her bare back, she imagined they were the hands of someone else. She turned around to face him hoping that it was that someone else, but it was still not _him_. Isolde wrapped one arm about his neck as she continued to dance facing him. He licked his lips, and supported her back as he dipped her and brought her slowly back to him as the song ended.

Isolde quickly disengaged herself, feeling sweaty and was glad that she had worn extra-strength deodorant today. She signaled to Mark that she wanted a beer and he slid her a Heineken. Isolde took to notice that Karissa had made herself a new friend and smiled.

"What's your name?" Came a whisper in her ear, the hot breath teasing the hairs on her neck.

"Isolde." She replied as she turned to look at him, taking a sip of her beer.

"Aren't you going to ask me my name?" He said with a bit of surprise, normally by now he'd have a girl back in her apartment half-way undressed.

"I already know your name." She said disinterested.

"Oh, you do an what is it then?" He queried.

At some point the attention of Gawain, Karissa, and Shelby had turned to them and they watched with interest at how Isolde toyed with him.

"Trouble," Isolde replied finishing off her beer. "Girls I'll see you back at the apartment, I think I want to go lie down."

Gawain was snickering under his breath until he was given a look which silenced him. Karissa and Shelby rolled their eyes, there was Isolde with a perfect male specimen and she didn't do anything about it.

Isolde got her jacket from the coat check and couldn't wait to leave the stuffiness of the club. The night air hit her like a thousand welcome knives. She could already feel her body cool and her sweating to cease. She had no honest reason as to why she didn't want his name and he was certainly attractive. And if he could dance like that well... its indicative of other abilities as well. Maybe Isolde just liked being free too much to be attached to any man short of the love of her life. When she thought of who the love her life would be, she knew in the pit of her heart that she already met him, even if her brain refused to acknowledge him. He was there an echo of himself, the slow purr of a murmur in her very soul...Tristan.

Isolde got back into her apartment and headed immediately for the shower, wanting to wash the sweat from her body and to attempt to sober herself up so she could write at least a semi-intelligible entry in her journal that night.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

The next morning Tristan felt relaxed as he went into work. He wasn't the least bit surprised to hear laughter coming from the meeting room, because everyone who worked for Arthur was hardly professional unless it came down to straight business.

"...So then, Lancelot swaggered up to her right. And he asks her, her name. I didn't quite catch it... but the best part was she didn't ask him his. So he asked her why right, and she said because she already knew it." Gawain explained.

"I thought I might have already slept with her before and forgotten it..." Lancelot inserted.

"Would you let me tell the story? Anyway, he asks her what his name was then, right. And she goes 'Trouble.' I was about ready to piss myself I was laughing so hard." Gawain finished.

He heard Arthur's deep laugh and the softer more melodic one of Guinevere. Turning into the room, he looked and indeed saw Arthur's bride to be sitting amongst the men, indulging herself in making fun of Lancelot's rejection as well.

"I swear to you, I will find this girl and bed her." Lancelot said slamming his fist on the table for emphasis.

"Is that all you think about? Getting a woman into bed?" Guinevere asked with mock surprise, knowing full well that it truly was.

"Yes." Came the reply of everyone else in the room.

When they took notice of Tristan in the doorway, they waved him over and he took a seat.

"Oh, Tristan you missed it. Gawain just told us about..." Arthur began.

"I heard..." Tristan said quietly as he played with the pencil situated on the pad of legal paper before him.

"So what was this woman's name? I feel like I should give her a medal of honor for managing to deflate your ego." Guinevere jested.

"It was...I think... Isolde." Lancelot said as he attempted to clear the cobwebs from his memory.

Tristan snapped the pencil in half that was in his hand. Everyone turned to look at him and he just shrugged it off. Inwardly, however his pulse just continued to race a thousand beats per minute. Someone up there had to hate him, what were the odds that of all the women Lancelot could hit on in a club he picks the woman who he met at chance in Cumbria. At first his brain told him to dismiss it as coincidence, but in all honesty, Isolde was not a common name and she had mentioned something to him about living in London.

What did he care though? He was with Lana, and he loved Lana. Its not like Lancelot did anything more with her than flirt. It made him happy to know that she had refused him as well. Though he had no real reason for this satisfaction other than he didn't know what he would do if she had accepted him.

"So, Arthur are you going to show me those plans of my dream house or not?" Guinevere said breaking the weird silence that had enveloped the room for those few brief instances.

"Of course, if Gawain would just plunk his arse some where other than on top of the table." Arthur said gesturing for Gawain to get off.

Gawain slid into a seat, while Arthur unrolled the blueprints for the mansion on the table and began to explain them to his eager fiancé. After everyone gave their input on how the process was coming, they split up and Lancelot stopped Gawain in the hall.

"You were with that Karissa girl all night right?" Lancelot began.

"Yeah, what of it?" Gawain said continuing on towards his office.

"Did you get her number?" Lancelot continued as if what he was hinting was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Aye, and we are going out to dinner tomorrow night." Gawain said as he entered his office and started up his computer.

"So, she's Isolde's roommate...so I was thinking..." Lancelot started when Gawain cut him off.

"Look, if you want I can tell Karissa to give me Isolde's mobile number so you can finally get her out of her system..." Gawain looked up at him.

"That's all I ask." Lancelot said leaving Gawain's office with a whistle and clapping Tristan on the back as he passed him in the hall.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde woke with a hangover, the next morning and headed into the bathroom to find her asprin. Popping two into her mouth, she swallowed them without water and headed into the kitchen. It was rather stupid of her to drink so much when she had work the next day.

Isolde worked for the Museum of London as their expert on Medieval History. This was a fairly high position for one so young, but Isolde was brilliant and it was recognized by everyone outside her family. Her coworkers joked that Isolde would be the curator by the time she was 40, a feat unheard of in her field.

She set the kettle on the stove, and was blinded by the bright light of the fridge as she reached in for a yogurt. Setting it on the counter, she got out a spoon and began to mix it, bringing the fruit up to the top. When she had gotten it to look edible, she made herself a cup of tea and sat at the table eating it in a zombie like trance.

The clock in the kitchen clicked into place, 5:00 AM. Isolde groaned, she really shouldn't be up this early. But Isolde always got in to the museum by 6:00, that way she could sort through all her work before the museum opened at 9:00 AM. When she finished the last of her meager breakfast she set herself about getting dressed.

She wore a tweed skirt that fell to her knees, a pair of simple brown pumps and a white turtleneck. Slipping the matching blazer over her turtleneck, she clipped her Museum of London, ID tag to her jacket. Her hair she put up into a rigid bun, and she grabbed her purse and her briefcase and headed out the door. Two minutes later after she had gotten outside on to the street, she realized that she had left her mobile charging in her room and rushed back to get it.

Today was an important day for Isolde, she was going to be receiving a shipment of artifacts recovered from an Anglo-Saxon burial in Essex. As the head of her department she would organize the cataloging of each item, the photographing of them as well as the absolute dating. Then once that was taken care of, she would set about formulating theories with the head Archaeologist who uncovered the site Dr. Thomas Nesbit.

Dr. Nesbit was sixty-four years old, but looked to be about seventy. He was also the man who could give Isolde a recommendation to teach at Oxford if she wanted it. But Isolde was never one for the life of a professor, at least not while she was this young.

The morning passed like clockwork with Isolde checking, then double-checking every last detail to make sure it was accurate. Then she went to the lower level of the Museum, and checked to make sure that everything in the classification room was in place for when Nesbit arrived. Isolde had to make an impression that would last, and nothing could break her from her business like mind set. Taking a deep breath, she shut the door and headed back to her office counting down the hours until the artifacts would arrive.

That was until at 10:30 AM on the dot, when her phone in her office rang and she answered it promptly.

"Hello Museum of London, Isolde Pritchard speaking, how may I help you?" Isolde said utterly professionally.

"You could help me by saving me some face and coming out to dinner with me... unless you still are afraid of getting into a little _Trouble._" Said Lancelot's confident drawl.

Isolde smiled with a mixture of surprise and shock that he had managed to get her number. Then she remembered that Karissa and his friend were flirting all night long. Making a mental note to kill her later, she took a deep breath before responding.

"And why should I agree to this, if you are _Trouble_?" Isolde played with the pen in her hand.

"Because you can't resist me." He replied.

Isolde rolled her eyes at him. He was so cocky, so confident that she couldn't get over it.

"Oh trust me I can. But, because I am such a nice individual, I'll do you the favor of one dinner. But I pick the place."

"I see... I see... well I can't tonight...tomorrow is no good either, does Thursday work for you?"

"Thursday is fine. My address is 567 Cheltenham Terrace, Suite #7. Pick me up at 7." Isolde resumed the twirling of her pen in her hand.

"Alright, and do I get to know where we are going?" He said cautiously.

"No... but dress...nice." Isolde said slowly.

In truth she had no idea of where they were going to go. But then she got up the brilliant idea of getting a free dinner at a nice restaurant thanks to _Trouble_ and she went with it.

"Nice... Alright, Ms. Pritchard. I will see you on Thursday... I just realized that you still didn't ask me my name...It's Lance." He said with some finality.

"You can't fool me, I know you're Trouble. But if you want me to refer to you as Lance I will, goodbye." Isolde hung up the phone and was oddly proud of herself.

She was intending on going on a date, just for the hell of it. She didn't even really like the guy, but she didn't care. Isolde Pritchard for once was just going to do something for the hell of it and not think it out 1,000 steps down the line. She'd be Shelby for the night.

Then the intercom crackled on, announcing that Dr. Nisbit had arrived with the shipment, and Isolde hurried downstairs to greet him. This was going to be a day to remember, she knew that now.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_A/N: I hope you all liked it. In fact I hope you all enjoyed it so much that I am going to get a review -cheshire cat grin- And now as promised, the responses to reviews._

_Lady Marek- I am glad that you feel bad for Lana and look past the fact that she's interrupting the Tristan & Isolde relationship. As for the connection... well there just might be one. And in this hypothetical situation, I don't know if I can reveal to you all the secrets I have planned for this story. You'll just have to wait and see._

_KnightMaiden- Not shooting me is a tempting offer. I will consider it and let you know. I knew that people wouldn't like Lana, I think its kind of a prejudice due to the fact that we all are rooting for Isolde. But you just met Lana, so I wouldn't say that she complains too much just yet. She has a very stressful job, and she did what any normal person does when they are under stress, she vents about it to a friend...or in her case Tristan. _

_W1cked Angel- Did I make you happy? You got your Lancelot action... :)_

_Wanderer of the Roads- Don't hurt the Tristan! I think Tristan honestly does love Lana and it wasn't like he was planning to have a fling with a local girl while in Cumbria. Isolde just kind of blind-sided him, and he was instantly drawn to her. I am glad you are really engaged in the story, and I think Isolde's flat mates are amazing as well. I have a lot of fun using British slang with them, and you'll be seeing them a lot more._

_Dferveiro- You actually did review... gotta love that memory loss. But two reviews are just as good in my book. I am glad you enjoy my story, and I am going to try and make updating a weekly thing. AND YOU ARE MY 50TH REVIEWER! So you get a balloon and a cookie._

_Prissy and Bregan- I have granted you your wish and given you a new chapter. I think there is this wee little addiction problem going on with this story, maybe I should start a support group? Anyway, hope this helped you unwind from school._

_And thank you to Wild-Vixen and MORWEN12 for reviewing._


	8. Chapter 8

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

_A/N:_ _AHHHHHHH! I saw in my inbox this morning a ton of reviews and it made me very happy. I also couldn't quite wait to get the next chapter out, so here you all are. And once again I placed the review responses at the end of the chapter. Happy reading... and happy reviewing perhaps?_

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde sprinted down to the lower levels as fast as her legs could take her, and as fast as decorum would permit. She straightened her jacket and pushed open the door to the room, clearing her throat to gain the attention of a haggard looking man in a rumpled tweed suit.

"Dr. Nesbit, I am Isolde Pritchard head of the Medieval History department here at the Museum, we spoke earlier on the phone." Isolde held out her hand.

Nesbit shook it briefly, but still managed to almost crush the bones in her fingers. It took all of her energy not to scream out in pain right there. Nesbit ran a hand through his hair as he looked down at the cases being brought into the room and deposited gently on to the work table.

"Yes, yes... Oh be careful with that would you! Its survived the last 900 years, it doesn't need to be damaged thanks to a clumsy oaf now." He shouted at one of the young Museum interns who had been roped into helping unload Nesbit's truck.

"Dr. Collins will be down shortly, he is in a meeting but he wanted to be here for this." Isolde continued but Nesbit was not paying any attention to her.

A few minutes later another man who looked to be in his late fifties with white hair and clear blue eyes entered the room. Unlike Nesbit, he was dressed impeccably and carried an air of professionalism about him. Slipping on a pair of glasses, he gave Isolde a brief smile before walking over to Nesbit. Dr. Collins was the curator of the Museum, and one of the most highly regarded archaeologists working in Britain today.

"Tom, managed to find yet another treasure trove?" He gave Nesbit a friendly shake.

"Yes, well someone has to keep this Museum of yours going, Robert." Nesbit replied.

The last case arrived and a hum of nervous energy flooded through the room. Nesbit, Collins and Isolde all put on latex gloves so that their fingers would not leave harmful oils on the artifacts. The first case they opened contained a slightly damaged piece of pottery.

"Likely housed his ale." Nesbit said with a chuckle.

Isolde took the camera that was waiting on the side counter and placed a card with the artifacts information from the case in front of it, before taking several pictures of it. This was done to keep everything catalogued and on record.

A piece of leather was cut from what appeared to be a water skin and carefully placed inside a plastic bag to be sent off to the lab for carbon dating. Nesbit believed the site to be roughly from the early 12th century, which would match with the rest of the sites found in the region.

"He's high-ranking whoever this man was due to the sheer amount of objects in his grave." Isolde muttered under her breath as she repeated this task over and over again for each thing.

That was until Nesbit carefully removed a rusted sword from a long case. Isolde's interest peaked, as she looked at the detail on the blade.

"Yes, it is quite something isn't it?" Nesbit said holding it aloft as he watched Isolde's eyes widen.

"Forgive me, Dr. Nesbit, but this sword style is hardly Anglo-Saxon in make." Isolde said definitively as she looked at the shape of the blade and its length.

"No, it is not Ms. Pritchard. Thomas believes that this man was a wealthy merchant, who was able to acquire this weapon from deeper within Europe." Collins explained.

Isolde photographed it taking the time to notice the runes carved down its length. The sword would need to be cleaned before she could discern what those runes were. But somewhere she felt as though that this was something bigger than an Anglo-Saxon burial.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Tristan guess who just called..." Lana said smiling as she hung up the phone that evening.

"Dagonet." Tristan replied flatly as he went back to playing a game of chess against himself.

Lana's shoulders slumped in defeat and she came over and placed an arm around his neck, her fingers playing with his hair which he always found relaxing.

"You always know everything... But yes it was Dagonet. He's coming for a visit next weekend." She continued.

"Arthur wanted to return to Cumbria next weekend with Guinevere to show her the grounds, and get a view of them himself. He asked me to accompany him." Tristan had struggled with the idea of returning to Alston since Arthur informed him of his plans that morning.

At first, Tristan could not find complaint in it, it was his job to show Arthur the land he'd just purchased. But the thought of showing Arthur the things that Isolde had showed him was almost too personal to do. He knew it was ultimately going to happen, he couldn't pretend that Isolde's and his secret place in Cumbria would remain theirs. Tristan felt foolish, like an impetuous child and finally resigned himself to the fact that he would have to act as their tour guide.

"I see...Well you have to do what Arthur needs you to do." Lana said trying to be supportive.

But she wasn't as skilled as Tristan was at hiding her emotions, and he knew that she was upset. He could hear it in the slight tremor of her voice, and the way her footsteps resounded on the floor as she walked away.

Picking up a pawn and twirling it in his hand, he breathed in deeply. Nothing in this life was ever easy, and women were perhaps the most vexing part of it. But Dagonet had been a friend to them all, perhaps he could convince Arthur to allow him and Lana along? He mused over this idea as he resumed his game, capturing the white king in two more moves.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde finished the cataloging at around 4:00 PM. Her back was sore from leaning over the table all day, examining each detail as she listened to the postulations of the two doctors. They rarely asked her opinion which she felt was a slap in the face. But Isolde was not a Doctor yet, having only attained her Masters degree. It was funny that one title could make your theories worth so much more to the world.

She hopped in to the local market on her way home to pick up some groceries she wanted. Roommates were a funny thing, when you acquired them, all of your favorite foods start to wind up missing. As Isolde waited to be wrung out she saw Premiere Londonium staring her in the face. Grabbing the copy she threw it down with the rest of her items. Handing the pimply faced teenage cashier her card, she bagged her groceries, signed the slip and left.

Walking in pumps, balancing a heavy bag of groceries, a briefcase and one's purse wasn't an easy task. Let alone attempting to unlock an apartment door, while walking in pumps, balancing a heavy bag of groceries, a briefcase and one's purse. So instead Isolde resulted to kicking the door until Karissa answered it looking throughly disheveled.

"What's the matter with you?" Isolde said slowly as she headed inside setting her brown bag on the counter.

"What's the matter with me? What's the matter with me! I'll tell you what's the matter with me! I have a date with Gawain tonight!" Karissa shouted.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Isolde queried as she put a quart of milk in the fridge.

"Well..yes..but don't change the subject! Shelby wore my favorite dress and now its got a great big hole in it. I have nothing to wear now, Gawain is going to be here in two hours and I'm screwed!" Karissa huffed.

Isolde finished putting her groceries away before looking at Karissa sympathetically.

"Calm down, two hours is plenty of time. I'd offer to loan you one of my dresses but they wouldn't fit you, so we'll just run down to Harrods, grab a little black dress and the day is saved."

"I DON'T HAVE TIME!" Karissa shouted as she rushed back into the bathroom and began curling her hair.

"Fine, let me change clothes. And I'll go get you a dress." Isolde replied as she kicked off her pumps and massaged her sore feet.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" Karissa shouted.

"Yeah...yeah... You better pay me back though cause last time you bloody well didn't."

Isolde put on a pair of sensible trainers, and some jeans before she went on her mission to save Karissa's date. She almost laughed when she realized the lengths she was going to so a friend could go on a date, when she wouldn't have even done this for herself.

Harrods was packed as usual, and it took Isolde forever to negotiate through people till she reached the party dress section. Seeing some of the dresses made her wonder why anyone ever thought they were a good idea.

Then she passed a dress so atrocious that she retracted her previous comment about the other dresses. Those were stunning compared to this frill covered Easter-egg number. Hurrying away from the ugliness, lest her own clothes become tainted she found the more sensible designer clothing.

She settled on getting Karissa another little-black cocktail dress. It was made of a satiny material and was done in an art-deco style that she knew Karissa would like. Turning over the price tag, she nearly fainted at the price. But Isolde knew in her heart that this was the dress, so she bought it and didn't try to think about the hit to her bank account all the way home.

Karissa was eternally thankful of course, when she saw the dress and hurried to go put it on. She came out and looked every bit the sophisticated woman that Isolde knew lurked somewhere beneath it all.

"You are simply stunning my dear." Isolde said with a smile.

"Really?" Karissa said apprehensively as she fiddled with her hair.

"If I were a lesbian, I'd shag you in a second."

"Thanks, you really know how to win a girl's heart." Karissa said with a laugh.

The doorbell rang and Karissa let out an eep, as she scrambled to find her earrings. Isolde went to the door, and smiled when she saw a very nervous looking Gawain on the other side, clutching a single rose in his hand.

"Hello again, come on in. Karissa will be out in a moment." Isolde said light-heartedly.

"Right...You don't think the rose is too much do you?" Gawain said in a whisper.

"She'll love it. I don't think you have a thing to worry about."

"Yes... of course... well..." Gawain then ran out of things to say.

Isolde didn't quite know what to say either so they stood there in an awkward silence until Karissa came down the hall earrings sparkling under the lights. As Gawain took notice of her, he's jaw seemed to go lower and lower till it reached the bottom of the floor.

"That good huh?" Karissa said with a smile.

"Yes... that good." Gawain replied holding out the flower for her.

"Thanks." Karissa said blushing.

As they were leaving, Karissa mouthed to Isolde "Don't wait up."

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Arthur was hunched over his desk, his eyes trailing over yet another contract. He had come into his inheritance just after he finished school. He ran the company that his father had left him the best he could, but at times it was still rather daunting. On his desk were photographs of his parents who had left him too early, of Guinevere and his friends on graduation day of military school. They had quite some times together, several of which he would never mention to Guinevere because they would get him in a deal of trouble.

Tristan watched him for a few moments, but Arthur did not notice he had entered the room till Tristan knocked on the door frame. Arthur's head snapped up and a friendly smile spread across his face as he motioned for Tristan to take a seat.

"Bloody lawyers, eh?" Tristan said as he looked at the documents on the desk.

"They are fighting me tooth and nail over this damn bloody estate. They wanted to make yet another golf course, and apparently my acquisition of this land is preventing me from doing so. Honestly, who needs another ruddy golf course? So, what can I do for you?" Arthur muttered.

"I have a favor to ask you..." Tristan said getting straight to the point.

"If its in my power to grant it I will."

"Dagonet is coming in next weekend, and Lana was quite cross with me when I heard we were supposed to go to Cumbria. If it is not too much of bother, could they accompany us?"

"How could you ever consider Dag and Lana to be a bother? I'm sure Guinevere will welcome the company of another female that way she won't have to put up with Lancelot. And Dag is as much of a brother to me as you all." Arthur said happily.

Tristan had known that it wouldn't have been an issue to invite them along. But he had delayed as long as possible before going to Arthur about it. It was like he had this nagging fear, or was it a hope, in the back of his mind that he might see Isolde there. And for as much as he would give to see her again, he didn't know what he would do if she saw him with Lana.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

The rest of the week past by in a series of flashes for Isolde. She was so busy at work trying to get all the data for the new artifacts recorded and consulting with Nesbit and Collins that she was working longer hours. She was home only long enough to eat briefly, write in her journal and sleep. She had a sneaking suspicion also that Gawain spent more time in her apartment then she did.

On Thursday she would have forgotten entirely about her date had it not been for Lance calling her to ask her if they were still on for that night. She was sure that she was quite a mess when she left work a little earlier than usual to go home and get ready.

She had bags under her eyes, her hair was atrocious, she felt dead on her feet. The English cure of course for this was a hot cup of tea. But that hardly had an effect. The cold water of her shower on the other hand perked her right up.

Isolde had a few things which one could wear to a fancy restaurant. But since her goal was to solely mess with Trouble's head, she went for one that was considered to be a show stopping number.

She had acquired the dress for a Museum benefit last year with help from her fashion consultants Karissa and Shelby. It was tasteful and classically styled, perfect for Isolde's sensibilities. The eggplant color also fit in with her dark colouring exceedingly well.

She straightened her hair, then put half of it up into a braided bun. The finishing touch for the evening was the necklace her grandmother had given her. It was a sterling silver, Celtic knot shaped to look like a flower, with a single crystal at its center. The necklace was very old, it had been in their family for years apparently, and Isolde only wore it on special occasions.

As she looked at her reflection in the mirror before her, she couldn't help but smile. It was rare when Isolde got dressed up, but she always thought that because it was so rare that it only made it more special. Besides, she hardly ever had cause to. And for all her yelling at Bridget, Shelby and Karissa, about acting too girlish, beneath it all she was just the same.

The door buzzed and she went to the intercom.

"Hello...come on up the door is open." Isolde said into it, before clicking the button to let Lance into the building.

Isolde went back into her bedroom, rubbed a dollop of lotion into her hands and made sure she had everything she needed. When she went back into the reception room she jumped when she saw him there. He was dressed in a black suit with a silver and dark blue tie, so he did dress nice afterall.

"You said come up." He replied giving her a smile.

"I did..." Isolde said slowly as her hand went to her heart to stay its beating.

"You look beautiful." Lancelot replied taking her hand and kissing it.

Isolde was instantly reminded of Tristan doing the same thing, and she drew her hand away giving him a half-smile as he guided her with one hand on her back out the door and down to the car.

"So where are we going?" He asked as he helped her into his Porsche, as if he would drive anything else, Isolde thought.

"Are you up for a drive?" Isolde said with a twinkle in her eye.

The restaurant Isolde had chosen was not in London at all. In fact it was closer to Cumbria than London. They were on the road for a few hours, and all in all Trouble was being a good sport about the situation. The restaurant she had chosen was in fact a hotel restaurant in Durham at Lumley Castle. She almost laughed when he saw their destination.

"I haven't been here in ages, I thought it would be a nice change of pace from all the swanky night clubs where you'd be sure to run into an old conquest."

"How thoughtful of you..." He replied as they walked into the castle.

Isolde had booked a table for them, and the host sat them while Lance decided to order a bottle of expensive wine, to attempt to impress Isolde. Once the wine was poured, they ordered their meals, Lance going for the roast venison and Isolde opting for the duck.

"Where did you grow up?" He asked after they exhausted several topics.

"It's a really small town that you probably have never heard of in Cumbria..." Isolde began when Lancelot cut her off.

"Cumbria? The estate I mentioned earlier for which I am working on legal documents for my friend is in Cumbria."

"Really?" Isolde said beginning to become nervous in the situation.

"Yes, we are heading up there next weekend in fact. Arthur has yet to see the place, and I haven't yet either. Only Tristan has but he didn't say much about it."

Isolde choked on her wine, and turned several shades of red. Lance attempted to pat her back but she waved him off, coughing until she could breathe normally.

"Are you alright?" He said slowly afraid that she might start dying again.

"Fine.." Isolde squeaked out before shoveling a fork full of duck into her mouth.

"Something is the matter..." He said after a few moments of silence.

"Really, I'm fine." Isolde said giving him a large smile.

"No you aren't, you just choked on your wine and paled like a ghost when I mentioned Tristan. Do you know him or something?" Lancelot didn't know how well he hit the nail on the head.

"I actually met him when I was visiting my family a week or so ago. I guess the world is just a hell of a lot smaller than I thought." Isolde wiped at her mouth with her napkin.

"That is quite strange. Well I hope he didn't frighten you with his brooding nature. Girls were afraid he'd bite their heads off, that was until Lana of course." He continued not quite grasping how his words would affect Isolde.

"Lana?" Isolde said playing dumb, while on the inside she was being stung.

"I guess he didn't mention her to you then? He is the quiet sort, Lana is his girlfriend. She has been for a long time, they are going to get married. Probably after Arthur does though. Anyway, why are we wasting this time talking about Tristan?" Lancelot said not noting her discomfort.

By the time they finished dinner it was nearing 11 o'clock, and even though Lancelot suggested "getting a room and continuing the fun," Isolde declined on the basis that she had work in the morning. The truth was she wasn't sure if she wanted to continue the fun with Lancelot. Sure he had been polite enough this evening and interesting company, but the fact that he was Tristan's friend was too much for her to handle.

On the way home, Isolde ended up falling asleep in the car with Lancelot's jacket draped over her body. He reluctantly woke her so that she could head up to her apartment, and even walked her to the door.

"Thank you for indulging my crazy whim." Isolde said with a yawn.

"Ah, it was an adventure with a beautiful lady, how can I resist that?" He said putting his hands in his pockets as he leaned casually against the wall.

"Goodnight..." She said slowly before giving him a kiss on the cheek and going into her apartment.

He touched his cheek and smirked, he got nothing out of the date and would be sleeping alone for the first time in a month. But that made him only appreciate Isolde's person more, she wasn't easy. That was alright he liked a challenge.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde leaned over him as they lied in the meadow. Her necklace caught the light as it cast a thousand rainbows on his face. He ran his hands through her hair and kissed her softly on the lips.

"Now, I really must go." She said with a smile.

"I will not let you...I shall keep you here forever." He tightened his grip on her.

In the distance a man's voice shouting Isolde's name caused him to frown in understanding before he let go of her. And helped her on to her feet. He brushed the stray pieces of grass from her hair and gown.

"When can we leave?" He asked softly.

"Soon...I promise." She kissed him again.

"As I thought, the necklace becomes you." He replied.

He ran his fingers over the delicate silver metal work. He had commissioned to have it made for her, and it cost him his extra coin for the next few months. Then he had the symbol matched on his sword, so that he would always know that he fought for her. He had promised upon his freedom he'd take her from this life. Sighing, she retreated back to her village, seven more years.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_Now my responses to all you lovely reviewers out there:_

_LANCELOTTRISTANBABY- Tristan is getting quite acquainted with the green-eyed monster. And I think he's always wanted Isolde, its just that because of his circumstances with Lana he wasn't exactly free to act on that...(even though he kinda did.) I hope you enjoyed their date, I had quite a bit of fun writing it. I am going to have more fun with Tristan finding out what happened though._

_June Birdie- I'm glad you are fond of my story. I would imagine refusing Lancelot would be quite the challenge, as he and Tristan are my two favorite knights. However, Isolde is so much her own person and in a lot of ways she's guarded, so someone like Lancelot who is this womanizer probably wouldn't normally be a person she'd associate herself with._

_Little Raven-Hawk- I am an archaeology major, hence all the jargon I threw around in this chapter. I still haven't seen it yet, I think I'm going tomorrow. Its good that its historically accurate, that makes me much happier. I don't think Isolde's dreams are going to be going anywhere. As for Tristan's sanity, well did he even have it in the first place? Thank you for the compliment, however I only believe I am able to fool you guys cause half the time even I don't know what's going to happen._

_Wanderer of the Roads- Yeah, when I thought of the Trouble idea I was like its perfect and its going in. Because all women know when we see a guy like Lance he's trouble, even if we don't mind getting into Trouble every now and again. The question is not when is he going to meet her again, but more like what will he do when he meets her again? And I'm keeping that under wraps. _

_Lady Marek- I think the temperature just did rise several degrees. I hope you enjoyed the date sequence, though it may not have gone as you thought it would have._

_W1cked Angel- It's a kilt, not a skirt. Anyway, I think everyone and their mother knew it was going to be Lancelot. And yes Lancelot is quite...amazingly hot in his own way. But when it comes down to it, he isn't Tristan. _

_Medieval Warrior Princess- I'm glad that you adore, as you put it, my story. It makes my day to know that new people are reading this and enjoying it. And your favorites list too? I'm flattered. Thanks!_

_Hunt4Max- Of course Isolde was going to be smart, I dropped clues earlier about her intelligence such as the fact that she was a straight A-level student. But anyway, the GawainKarissa subplot I think is going to be the cute romance that always seems to develop on the side of everything else. And begging for updates? Well I hope I got this out quick enough for you._

_KnightMaiden- Lancelot will be in the way as you can see for a while. But he might end up being a bit more of a cupid for our favorite people than a hindrance, you'll just have to wait and see._

_404- Thank you for the enthusiastic compliments. I am glad you enjoy my story, though I don't know if I would label it as remarkable myself. _

_Thanks to: MORWEN12, Dferveiro, and Wild-Vixen._


	9. Chapter 9

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

_A/N: No, I still have not seen "Tristan & Isolde." That being said, I think a lot of people are getting anxious for when Tristan and Isolde are going to be together again instead of separated by a lovely divider in the chapter. I can tell you now, that the wait is over folks. As before, the responses to your many wonderful reviews are at the end of the chapter. Enjoy!_

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde woke from the dream with a start. These dreams were getting weirder, more real to her and it was frightening. She ran her hand through her hair, and cradled her knees in her arms as she allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness of her room.

Glancing to her alarm clock she saw it was only 3:23 in the morning. She had been asleep for maybe two hours, but she knew that she would not be able to fall back to sleep after this. Her feet found their way into the bunny slippers at the side of her bed, and she trudged out to the reception room to check what was on the tele.

As to be expected, all that found its way on to the various channels were infomercials about various weight-loss products, amazing turkey basters and acne treatment. She went back into her bedroom and noted that she had left her clothing scattered about in her hurry to get to sleep last night.

Bending to pick up her gown from its pool of satin on the floor, she placed it on a hanger and made a mental note that it would need to go to the cleaners. She grabbed her shoes and stuffed them back into her closet. Striding to her jewelry box, she took out her earrings and placed them in their drawer.

Slowly she went to her neck and lifted the fine silver chain of her necklace to examine her pendant more closely. She dropped it back to her chest, like it had been a hot coal. The necklace was the one that was given to her in the dream.

"You probably just incorporated it into your dream because you forgot to take it off last night." Isolde told herself as she used what little knowledge of psychology she had.

Unhooking the clasp, she held it in her hand, appreciating the weight of it before she laid it down carefully in its drawer and shut her box. That necklace was one of the only things she had left that was her grandmother's and she knew in her heart that she held more respect for that then she probably would her own wedding ring someday.

Isolde's grandmother was Italian by decent, having come from Rome as a child and settling in Britain with her family. But Grandma Rosa, had always said that there was Irish blood in her roots. Which in turn would explain her fiery temper, and her uncharacteristically light eyes.

"Isolde," She would always say, "You are special mi bambola, and one day you'll realize why."

Having only been in her youth Isolde tended to respond with comments like, "But you are my Grandmum, its your job to say that," or "But mum always says Bridget is the special one."

Then Rosa would merely ruffle Isolde's hair and whisper something into her ear in Italian, then go back to her cooking. Isolde smiled at the thought of the days she spent in her Grandmother's kitchen, learning to cook or listening to stories. Grandma Rosa always had time for Isolde, even up until the end when she barely had the energy to get up in the morning.

After the funeral, Isolde couldn't shed a single tear. Fleeing the wake at her Grandmother's cottage, she ran out to the rocky cliffs overlooking the sea. The brackish scent filled her nostrils, as the harsh wind whipped at her hair. She had shut her eyes, the sunlight filtering through the lids so all she saw was the red of her blood moving through skin. And only then, when she had ripped herself away from her family and everything else could she properly cry.

Isolde looked at the necklace fondly one more time before taking a deep breath and shutting its case.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Lancelot, Arthur wanted me to inform you that we are having a meeting in ten minutes... Are you drinking coffee?" Gawain asked as he popped his head into Lancelot's office.

Sure enough Lancelot had a very large cup of coffee on his desk, a rarity as he believed that it would stain his perfect teeth and then where would he be? Lancelot looked up at him, he had dark circles visible under his eyes.

"Yes, unfortunately for me...I was kept awake for far longer than usual by my dinner date last night." Lancelot said slowly.

Of course, this was taken in the wrong way, as it was meant to have been because what man such as Lancelot would admit that he had not been able to shag someone? Gawain let out a loud chuckle, his hand even going to his stomach to support himself.

"Ah, so that Isolde has stamina to go along with that temper, eh?" Gawain responded.

Naturally, Tristan therefore was walking down the hall as Gawain said this and overheard him. His eyes narrowed into slits as he drew closer to them, his knuckles cracking as he drew closer.

"She is quite a handful." Lancelot replied with a cheeky grin.

Tristan arrived at Lancelot's office and shot both him and Gawain a look that would kill them several times over.

"I hate to interrupt your little pow-wow about your newest _conquest_, but Arthur needs us in his meeting room now." Tristan spat before turning and exiting the room.

Lancelot and Gawain shared a look, before Gawain mouthed, "What's up his arse?" To which Lancelot only shook his head in reply.

They followed the angry Tristan back to the meeting room and noted that he sat as far away from them as humanly possible. Arthur stood at the front of the room in his perfectly pressed business suit waiting for everyone to get settled.

"Now, next week we shall all be in Cumbria. Speaking of which, Lancelot, I am going to need you to have finished the main legal paperwork for the groundbreaking on the mansion by next Wednesday. The real reason that I called you all here is that I know how stressed some of you have become of late. I wish I could offer you a true vacation, but I think you all understand why it is impossible at this time to do so. After discussing it with Guinevere, we decided that perhaps this weekend should be about pleasure as much as business." Arthur stated when Lancelot cut him off.

"Pleasure, eh?" Lancelot said with a grin.

"We have rented out a manor located roughly ten miles outside of Alston. It can accommodate us all comfortably, and if you so wish it, a guest of your choosing. Now, a very old friend will be joining us as well. Tristan informed me that Dagonet was returning to Britain and so he will be with us..." Arthur trailed off switching then to important matters at hand.

Gawain was hardly paying attention as he was thinking of the best way to ask Karissa to join him, and Lancelot... he already had his plan in mind.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

The cotton swab swirled the solution over and over again on the blade, guided by Isolde's steady hand. It was a time consuming process, to remove the effects of time so that the sword could properly be identified. In fact, Isolde had been working since early that morning and it was now nearing two in the afternoon. She had not even bothered to take her lunch break and opted to continue her work.

If she could translate the ruins on this sword, she could identify where it was made and perhaps glean a better understanding of the man whom it belonged to. Then Collins and Nesbit, would welcome her into their fold with open arms, even though she was not yet a Dr.

"Ms. Pritchard..." Said a clear aged voice from the doorway causing Isolde to jump back in fear.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to scare you." Dr. Collins said softly.

"Its quite alright, I think I've just been down here too long." Isolde responded, finding it difficult to return her back to a straight position.

"Yes, indeed you have. Ms. Pritchard, though I find it admirable that you are devoting so much time to this site. I would like to remind you that you have other duties at the museum as well, and that this is Nesbit or one of his lackey's job to accomplish basic cleaning. To be quite honest, I do not know why you are devoting so much time to the sword at all. If anything, you should be translating the runes they found on his burial chamber." Collins said coming closer.

When he realized how far Isolde had progressed in the sword cleaning, he pushed his glasses on and looked at the runes. His eyes widened in shock as his hands hovered over the blade in almost reverence. Isolde had managed to clean almost the entire blade save for the very bottom near the hilt of the sword.

"Well I'll be damned." He whispered.

"I think, once the carbon dating samples arrive back from the lab that we will find Dr. Nesbit and your predictions to be slightly off-track. This man, whoever he was, was not Anglo-Saxon at all..." Isolde said with a bit of smugness to her voice.

"No...Ms. Pritchard, no he was not. I...will finish up here, you are free to go for the rest of the day." Dr. Collins spoke as if he had seen a ghost.

Isolde was confused, then annoyed. Stripping off her gloves she tossed them in the rubbish bin and headed up to her office. She took the clip from her hair, enjoying the relaxed feel of having it down instead of the strain of having it conservatively pulled back. As she gathered her things into her briefcase she noted that she had a message on her machine. Pushing play she was surprised to hear Lancelot's voice on the other end.

"Hello, I know by the rules of dating etiquette I am not supposed to call you the morning after our date. But I was wondering, if it would be a tad forward to ask you to come with me next weekend to Cumbria. I know, you might want to think about it. So call me when you decide or if you just feel the need to hear my luxurious voice again."

Isolde sank back into her chair and looked up at the tiled ceiling. God had to hate her, that was the only explanation for it. Why else would this be happening? She pinched the bridge of her nose, a habit she picked up from her father when he was dealing with a stressful thought.

It was simple, she would tell Lancelot no on the grounds that she couldn't possibly leave work now that she had started research and that it was much to soon to be going away with him for the weekend. She would just tell him later, when she had a few drinks in her and her brain wouldn't have to function on a higher level.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Tristan, what's the matter?" Lana noticed when he entered the apartment in a rather foul mood.

"Nothing." He responded, then giving her a quick kiss as if to assure her he was fine before heading into the w.c.

But Lana knew he wasn't. Sure he was skilled at hiding his emotions from others, she knew that all too well. However, after living with someone for a few years, you begin to notice the subtleties in a glance, the way words seem to hang in the air with a tinge of venom, these things you know.

Lana sighed, he had not been himself lately. More so this past week, but even the months before he had begun to become more quiet and brooding. She couldn't understand for the life of her why he hesitated to touch her now, when before they never seemed to be separate. Glancing at her bare ring finger, she set herself to make dinner, a welcome distraction.

Would he ever ask her to marry him? Or was this all just a waste of her time? She loved him more than anything in this world, and he loved her, so what was the problem? Maybe, after next weekend, he would see. Perhaps, she could have Guinevere mention something to Arthur in hopes that he might confront Tristan.

As she chopped onions up for the salad, tears were in her eyes. But they were not from the onion juice fumes. She wiped at them quickly, finishing up the salad with a quick toss. Before moving on to make some pasta.

By default, when Lana moved in with Tristan, he became a vegetarian as well. Lana refused to eat any kind of meat, which Tristan respected and he didn't want to make her uncomfortable so he avoided eating meat when with her as well.

He looked into the kitchen and saw her preparing the meal, her back curved slightly as she stirred the sauce. He could hear the tremble in her breath, he could see how her blonde hair was disheveled from her running her hands through it, and he knew yet again, he had hurt Lana in some way.

She was so fragile, and Tristan was anything but gentle. He wondered at times if by staying with her, he was hurting her in the long run. Sure, she loved him now but if he did marry her, and she found out he wasn't who she thought he was what then? The bitterness of a divorce isn't something he wanted her to go through, or the heartbreak of discovery that her husband couldn't love her fully.

Tristan stopped his thoughts, when he noted what he had come to realize. He loved Lana, he'd do anything he could for her if it came to it, and yes he'd marry her and cherish her if she really wanted him to. But, parts of him, she could never claim. And he and Lana were both beginning to realize that.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Shelby, if you were asked by a guy you just met to spend a weekend with him, would you go?" Isolde said while leaning over the balcony rail looking out at the city below.

"It depends...Are we talking about your Mr. Trouble?" Shelby said handing Isolde a glass of wine as she joined her staring out at the landscape.

"The one and only." Isolde took the glass from her and allowed the alcohol to slowly make its way down her throat.

"In a heartbeat." Shelby replied with a smile.

"So you think I should go?"

"Course you stupid cow. He's attractive, he's got a good job, he didn't seem like a serial killer... I say go for it. Besides, isn't Karissa going with that bloke of hers too?"

"... Yeah. Are you just saying all of this so you can get both me and Karissa out of the apartment so you can have Mark over?" Isolde said with a moment of clarity.

"Mark? Bloody hell no, this is so I can get Jacob up here."

"What happened to Mark?"

"That wanker? I just used him to get free drinks and into the club. Jacob on the other hand, Jacob has a trust fund." Shelby said with a delighted sigh.

"You never fail to surprise me with how shallow you can be."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Isolde drained her glass and headed back inside. She really shouldn't be afraid of Tristan should she? And if she went to Cumbria, she could get a decent cup of coffee for a change and she could see Elanore and Galahad. And worst comes to worst, there was always her parents house to hide at. Though she sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Shelby, if you set the place on fire with your ruddy cooking I swear to God, I will kick your sorry arse out of the apartment." Isolde warned as she gathered her bags along with Karissa's in the front hall.

"My ruddy cooking? Who was the one who thought that they should bake Karissa a birthday cake and ended up calling it a 'Cajun Chocolate Surprise'?" Shelby retorted.

"Well.. Our oven is crap..." Isolde said before hurrying out of the room.

"Isolde, you ready to head out?" Karissa called as she dropped the last of her things by the door.

"Yeah, just one second."

Isolde walked over to her jewelry box and took out her Grandmother's necklace and secured it around her neck. If there ever was a time when she needed her Grandmother's strength it was now. She emerged from her room a few minutes later slipping a hooded jumper on as she walked.

Karissa and Isolde agreed to drive up together in Isolde's car. Gawain, Lancelot, Arthur and Guinevere were going in another. And Tristan, Lana and Dagonet in the third and final car of their caravan.

Isolde and Karissa immediately dubbed their car the 'fun car' and decided to sing as many obnoxious pop love songs as they could possibly find on the radio. Their crowning number of this was their rendition of "My Heart Will Go On" during which Isolde attempted to make a dramatic hand gesture and nearly ran them off the road in the process.

The research at the Museum had been postponed temporarily as Dr. Nesbit wished to return to the site for further excavations of the area. When Isolde had finally agreed to come, much to Lancelot's elation as well as Karissa's relief, Dr. Collins practically pushed her out the door saying to take the weekend off.

This was a bit odd considering she had the weekend before off, but who was she to argue? She only regretted leaving her work unfinished as it had consumed her thoughts for the past week and a half.

Finally when the reached the old manor house, Isolde heaved a sigh of relief. The drive up was much better with company, but it was still extremely tiring none-the-less. Isolde and Karissa had begun to grab their bags from the car when two more cars pulled up after them. Isolde had just managed to haul her duffle on to her shoulder when she saw Tristan get out of the car followed by a beautiful woman, and an extremely tall man, and the duffle promptly fell back to the ground with a thud.

The noise drew his attention, and he looked up to see Isolde standing there looking at him with a mixture of happiness and melancholy and a hint of confusion. He breathed in deeply, knowing that this was not going to be a fun weekend by any means. Lancelot and Gawain at this time had left their car and made their way over to Isolde and Karissa to help them with their bags.

"Have a fun trip?" He said as he came over giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Isolde saw Lana clinging to Tristan, and in a moment decided to make herself forget and perhaps make him feel what she was feeling, she reached up and gave Lancelot a kiss. He was certainly surprised by this new found display of affection, but had no trouble responding to it. Isolde opened her eyes and saw Tristan looking at her with what could only be seen as disappointment, before his mask fell back into place. Isolde released Lancelot and straightened out his button down shirt with a nervous smile.

"Hello to you too.." He said smiling, as he hauled her duffle with ease along with his own bag into the manor.

Once inside the foyer, everyone momentarily set down their things as they could make their introductions. Arthur and Guinevere smiled warmly at everyone, their arms around each other's waists as they spoke.

"For the two new faces, I'm Arthur and this is Guinevere. We're happy you could join us... Guin and I will be staying on the 2nd floor, your room Dagonet is also on the second floor." Arthur explained motioning to the tall man.

"Gawain...and I'm sorry I didn't get your name?" Arthur began.

"Karissa." She said shyly.

"Right, Gawain and Karissa you are also on the 2nd floor."

"And Tristan and Lana, you and Lancelot and the infamous Isolde are on the third floor. So why don't you head up and get settled in, and I'll signal for them to start on supper."

Isolde whispered to Lancelot asking why she was infamous, when he responded "Trouble." And she let out a small chuckle. Arthur and Guinevere headed down the hall to see to the servants, where everyone else headed up the grand staircase.

"So, you are Lancelot's girlfriend?" Lana said to Isolde as they made their way up the flights of stairs.

"Yes... if you could call it that." Isolde said after a moment.

She took the extra time to survey the woman before her. She was very tall, and skinny. But Isolde had to admit she had beautiful blonde hair and perfect white teeth. In short, this woman was quite fetching, and Isolde knew she never had a chance with Tristan when he had this at home.

When they reached their rooms, Isolde practically ran into hers and Lancelot's. Then she noted that there was only one bed, and that Tristan and Lana were just in the next room. It was almost enough to cause her to hyperventilate.

"What's the matter?" Lancelot said as he set the bags down on the bed.

"Gah! Why did I agree to come? I mean, Shelby said I should because you are attractive, yadda yadda, I need a man in my life blah blah the same speech Cordelia would give me, but I knew he was going to be here and seeing him with her, I just can't take it!" Isolde shouted.

"Calm down. Who's Shelby and Cordelia? And yes I agree, I am attractive. And Seeing who with her? Tristan?" Lancelot said beginning to understand.

"Yes." She replied nearly yanking out her hair.

"Why should it bother you to see Tristan?" Lancelot began slowly testing the waters with this woman he'd only been out with once.

"Because...I like him alright. And I met him last week, and he was perfect and amazing. And then surprise, surprise, he has a girlfriend which I found out when she called him. And so I go off to London thinking, I will never see him again so I can deal. Then you come along, and here I am" Isolde said flopping down on the bed.

"Oh..." Lancelot replied joining her.

"Oh is right." Isolde muttered.

"Now this is all like one horrible soap-opera, you do realize that right?" He said getting a chuckle from her.

"But...You are going to enjoy yourself this weekend, and you are going to forget about Tristan. Because you have Trouble to ensure that you do, even if I have to shag the brains out of you to do it."

"Thanks, though I believe it would be more of a hardship on my part then on yours. I am going to go find Karissa... I'll see you downstairs in a bit." Isolde got up and headed out her door. No sooner had she turned the corner then she bumped into something.

"Hello...Isolde." He said softly.

"Tristan." She replied with a small smile and a nod, before brushing past him and down the stairs as fast as her feet could take her.

Tristan watched her run off before he had a chance to continue their conversation. He, unlike Isolde, had no warning that she would be here. And was thoroughly off guard when she came crashing back into his life, both literally and metaphorically. All he knew is that she couldn't avoid him forever, and whenever they had their confrontation, it wasn't going to be pretty.

She paused in an alcove and looked out an old leaded window which had a view of the gardens and tried to calm down. In her heart she had no idea how she was going to survive this weekend.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_As promised here are the responses to your reviews:_

_Priestess of the Myrmidon- Glad you like my writing style and that you are enjoying the story. Yeah, the marketing really was a bad choice, I think they were trying to appeal to a teenage audience with it, which just totally screwed it up._

_Wanderer of the Roads- For a while I was considering having Isolde actually be a newspaper journalist. But I think that this is much better suited for her, and the overall plot of the story as well. Yes, Karissa and Gawain are going to be the cute couple that we all collectively say "awww" over. And yes the necklace and the sword are important, glad you picked up on that._

_KnightMaiden- I haven't seen him as a Cupid either. But I think if anyone can be smooth enough to pull it off its gonna be Lancelot. The last bit was a dream that Isolde had. I am sorry that I didn't clarify that, as I probably should have. All I have to say that what was contained in that dream is something you should keep in the back of your mind._

_TreetopScout- I'm glad you like my story. I realize that by doing an AU, that it might not necessarily be well received, but so far I've only gotten positive feedback. Sorry there was no fist fight._

_Dferveiro- Yes, the reason why it wasn't working is because of a bug on I even removed the chapter and reposted it to try and get it to work again, but I'm glad they fixed the glitch._

_Firbereth- Thank you. I tried to keep the characters as similar as I could to the personalities they had in the movie. And I wanted Isolde to be real, like you could bump into her on the street and she'd be totally believable. I think Mary-Sue's lose part of the thing which makes stories great, I always find less than perfect characters more interesting than those who do everything right._

_LithiumAddict- Master of the one liner? I'm flattered. I hardly think about trying to create them, I think its just how my humor works. Tristan the Man-Whore -dies laughing- Man-Whore is a good word though. I am not sure if I would apply it to Tristan though. I tried to make all the knights have a part in the story, but I knew realistically I couldn't have them all be friends so I tried to each give them a role in the story that fit their persona. Chugging coffee is always a good pastime. I've been known to do it while writing this story also. Glad you are enjoying it, hopefully you'll come to love it._

_EssenceofCrazy- Oh my. You are going rather crazy, whatever shall I do? Do you need me to call some nice men who will give you a very fashionable white jacket and put you in a room with padded walls?_

_Jenni- You have your reunion._

_Chelsss- Trust your gut instincts. :)_

_Shakespeare Diva- Thank you for calling me a goddess. As for that membership card I am receiving in the mail, would it be a goddess membership card or a British membership card? Anyway, glad you like my story._

_Also thank you to: Addicted2LancelotAndTristan_, _LancelotTristanBaby, 404, nothing.but.silence, and MORWEN12._


	10. Chapter 10

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

_A/N: Hello again everyone. I finally put Tristan and Isolde back in the same place for you, so now the real fun can begin. Let me say that I had a blast writing this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it. I still haven't seen Tristan & Isolde, so no spoiling things for me. Again the reviews are located at the end of the chapter for you all, I can't believe we're almost up to 100 reviews. That's exciting, like... I might do something extra special next chapter because of it -cheshire cat grin- So please enjoy, and review!_

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Arthur and Guinevere still held on to one another as they navigated the main hall, turning into the third door on their left. The kitchen was magnificent, it would have served even the best of chefs proudly. The marble counter tops, sparkling stainless steel appliances, and center Island above which hung several brand new looking pots was in short perfect.

However, what was not perfect was the fact that there was not a single member of the staff in sight. There was no chef, no housekeeper, there was no one.

"Hello?" Arthur said as he released Guinevere wandering around the room, "Hello, is anyone here?"

There was no response and Guinevere looked at the kitchen with a bit of hesitation. As the hostess of this outing, she would be required to cook if she couldn't find the staff. And though Arthur never complained about her few attempts to cook, she knew that she was no way capable of feeding nine people.

"Well, you were certain that a staff was included?" Guinevere said softly.

"I was almost positive. Well this just won't do. I'll call Jols back at the office and have him double-check everything with the realtors." Arthur muttered before wandering out of the room to go collect his mobile from his bags which were still in the hall.

Guinevere was just examining the large stove and oven when Isolde came striding into the room. Both women jumped in fright but a few moments later were laughing about their collective stupidity.

"Isolde, this weekend is going rather poorly already I'm afraid." Guinevere said with a sigh.

"Why would you say that?" Isolde replied, though from her own experiences she could agree with that statement whole-heartedly.

"When Arthur had this manor booked for us all, we thought that it included a staff. However, now we've found that there isn't one. I can't possibly cook dinner for nine people, I think my cooking would kill them all first. Its just a mess, and to top it off, there aren't any groceries in the fridge."

Isolde truly felt horrible for this woman. But then again, how rich do you have to be to not be able to cook dinner? Then a little nagging voice at the back of her mind screamed Shelby couldn't cook either and that settled that.

"It will be fine, we'll just pop down to the market. Pick up some groceries, and cook dinner. It might be a little later than we'd normally eat but I'm sure it would be fine." Isolde said slowly.

"But I don't even know where the market is!" Guinevere replied.

"Yes, but I do..."

Arthur came back into that room at that time, and smiled to himself even though it was evident to all that he was not happy about something at all.

"I got off the phone with Jols."

"And?" Guinevere prodded urging him to continue.

"They can't have anyone here until tomorrow morning. Apparently they had a mess up in their scheduling, so we must fend for ourselves tonight."

Guinevere breathed a sigh of relief, at least this arrangement was only for one night and Isolde seemed really calm about the whole situation which was affecting her own mood.

"Ok, so I'll run down to the market. There are nine of us right?"

"Yes, but you don't have to go." Arthur said quickly attempting to be a good host.

"Its fine... besides if someone doesn't go, we aren't going to eat tonight." Isolde left the room and headed up to her own bedroom.

Lancelot was in the process of changing his shirt when she walked in. Immediately her hand went over her eyes, but then it was lowered so she could take it all in.

"Sorry..." Isolde said quickly before grabbing her purse and digging through it until she found her keys.

"You know, I think you are the first woman who has felt compelled to drive away at the sight of seeing me bare-chested."

"No, I am sure I'm not the first. I am actually heading to the market though, apparently there is no food in this entire manor house. I'll be back in an hour or so." Isolde started heading out when she realized Lancelot was hot on her heels.

"Where do you think you're going?" Isolde said turning around part way down the stairs.

"Coming with you, naturally." He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Gawain and Karissa were heading down to the kitchens when they saw Lancelot and Isolde at the front door putting on their jackets.

"Leaving already?" Gawain called out.

"Going into town." Lancelot replied popping the collar on his jacket before Isolde smoothed his color back down and shook her head.

"Oh, Isolde can we come with you. I want to see the infamous place where you grew up."

So in a matter of minutes Isolde's trip alone, became a trip with Lancelot which became a trip with Lancelot, Gawain and Karissa. She opened the door and looked out and realized they'd never all fit in her mini-cooper. It was like a clown car, and Lancelot and Gawain weren't exactly dainty.

"We'll take my range rover." Gawain said clicking the button on his keys so that the doors unlocked.

"Do you mind if I drive? I can get us there a lot faster." Isolde stated simply.

It was a known fact that Isolde was an insane driver. However, no seemed to have informed Gawain of this as he tossed her the keys which she caught in one hand. She had to hop to get into the driver's seat, but that was the penalty for being short. Once everyone had clamored inside the car, Isolde hit the stereo. First there was only static, then they were attacked by Sheena Easton singing "Morning Train" at the top volume. Naturally, they all cringed and smacked at the stereo unit until it shut off.

"Gawain, I am not even going to ask why that was in your C.D. player." Lancelot said turning around to face Gawain who was now whistling and looking anywhere but at the other people in the car.

Isolde put the car in gear and then sped off down the gravel driveway, the wheels kicking up a flurry of dirt in their wake.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Tristan pulled aside the curtains of his room and watched the range rover disappear off down the road. Not knowing what had transpired, he was very confused and set off for Dagonet's room where Lana and him were having a chat.

Tristan could not understand what was being said as they were conversing in very fast Russian, but his presence made them stop their conversation and look up at him with smiles.

"Are you ready to head down to meet Arthur?" He asked quietly.

"Yes, we just finished catching up." Lana said shooting Dagonet a look that Tristan didn't fully understand before standing and walking over to Tristan and grabbing hold of his hand.

"Dagonet was telling me some interesting stories about the Military Academy..." Lana said with a bit of amusement in her voice.

"Did he now?" Tristan replied glancing up through his shaggy hair at the tall man beside him.

"And what did Dagonet say?" Tristan continued still staring at Dagonet.

"He told her about how the psychologist on campus had thought you were too angry, and made you spend one day each week in anger-management...in the pink room with the little bunnies."

Tristan shot him a glare, but the sight of Dagonet imitating a hopping rabbit was just too funny to not laugh at. And he walked faster to get ahead of them, before they could see the grin on his face.

"Arthur, I'm famished, when are we going to eat?" Dagonet called as they entered the parlor.

A few minutes later Guin and Arthur entered the room carrying several wine glasses and a bottle of Chateau Margaux. Arthur sat down on one of the puffy arm chairs as he poured the wine which Guinevere handed out.

"It appears that we will not have our wait staff till tomorrow morning, so Isolde offered to go into town to pick up some groceries to make dinner." Arthur swirled the wine in his glass, sniffing it briefly before allowing some of the dark inky looking liquid into his mouth.

"Well that explains where she went, but where are Lancelot, Gawain and that girl of his?" Dagonet asked from his position on another arm chair across from Arthur.

"Apparently, they wanted in on the fun. They should all be back shortly." Guinevere said with a smile as she sat on the arm of Arthur's chair, rubbing his back off-handedly.

"Oh, I wish they had told me. I'd love to see the quaint little town." Lana said a bit dejected.

She didn't know why, but she got the feeling that Isolde didn't like her. Though the woman didn't really say or do anything to indicate such, she just felt such hostility emanating from her that it was impossible to not notice.

"We are all going in tomorrow morning, so you'll have your chance then." Tristan said in a whisper to her.

"Oh, I hope the light is good then. I would love to get some work in."

"That reminds me... I was wondering, well Arthur and I were wondering if you would be the photographer for our wedding. Since we are trying to keep it small, we hoped that it would only be friends and family coming. And you are such a wonderful photographer, it would be horrid not to have you." Guinevere gave her puppy dog eyes.

"Of course. The pictures are going to be so spectacular that you won't have to worry about a thing."

Guinevere squeaked with pleasure and hugged Lana, while Tristan, Dagonet and Arthur all shook their heads. Lana and Guinevere had met on several occasions before. They weren't exactly what you would call the best of friends, but they were on good enough terms after being with their respective beaus for so long. Guinevere was very excited when she met Isolde and especially Karissa. Karissa seemed like such a sweet girl, and she could see that she made Gawain very happy. Isolde was a bit different than she expected her to be from the stories circulating about her at the office. She had pictured her to be a vixen man-eater, but instead, much to her own relief, she found the total opposite.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Isolde for the love of god woman, slow down before you hit something!" Gawain shouted from the back seat, as he cringed in fear for the safety of his car.

"Oh calm down, we're here anyway." Isolde slowed the car and pulled into a space at the side of the road outside the local market.

"Thank god." Lancelot said as he finally released his grasp on the door allowing color to flood back into his hands.

Isolde hopped out of the car and had the keys immediately wrenched out of her hands by Karissa.

"Sweetie, I love you but never again will we give you a vehicle with off-road capabilities." Karissa said giving her a look.

Isolde smirked and pushed open the door to the market, grabbing a basket on her way in as she looked about before heading to the fresh produce aisle. She was followed by Karissa who helped her pick out some tomatoes, while Gawain and Lancelot began to toss an orange back in forth in the aisle.

Isolde saw this and intercepted the orange before smacking Lancelot rather hard on the arm and putting the orange back with the others. Gawain started laughing at Lancelot, when he got a smack on the arm from Karissa which stopped his chuckling.

"So what exactly are we making, oh masterful chef?" Lancelot said looking at her ingredients which for the moment only consisted of tomatoes and basil.

"I actually don't know, but I'm Italian, so my first impulse is to buy tomatoes and basil." Isolde said with a shrug.

"We should make chicken parmigiana." Karissa said with a wistful look on her face.

"Well isn't Lana a vegetarian? So I don't think she'll be eating that." Gawain said after a moment.

"So then I'll make eggplant..." Isolde said trailing off as she remembered something her grandmother used to make.

"Obi-wan want to share the rest of us your great knowledge." Lancelot continued when Isolde showed a range of emotions on her face indicating deep thought.

"Well, I was just thinking... I could do eggplant, stuff it with pesto, wrap that in filo dough. And serve it with creamy long-grain rice... and fresh asparagus."

"Can you really make all that?" Gawain said in disbelief, practically drooling at the sound of it.

"No." Isolde and Karissa replied.

"But we can try." Isolde added with a grin.

They set about getting the rest of the ingredients, and not having the energy to make proper desert picked up a cheesecake on the way out. Isolde reached into her purse to pull out her bank card, cringing at the thought of she was going to have hardly any money left at the end of the month between Karissa's dress, this shopping trip and the cost of gas from constantly driving up to Cumbria. Before she got the card out of her wallet, Lancelot was already handing his to the cashier.

"Company card." He said with a smile as he signed the receipt.

They each took a bag and headed out to the car, situating the bags in the trunk space. Isolde had to lean over to push the bags to the back and when she did she found that Lancelot had goosed her. Appalled that he would pinch her in the bum in the middle of the street, she started to chase him around the car screaming 'I'm going to kill you', but he hopped inside and hit the power locks. People out on the street were staring at them, and whispering to themselves before hurrying away, and in one case crossing to the other side of the street to avoid them.

Gawain and Karissa shook their heads before Gawain clicked the locks open with his keys, and pulled Lancelot from the driver's seat. Glad that his Range Rover was once again in safe hands, they headed back to the manor.

They all entered laughing hysterically, while attempting to not drop the food they just bought. Everyone who was in the salon found themselves now following them into the kitchen as they set the ingredients out on the island. While Isolde set about scrubbing herself up so she could cook properly.

"So what are we having?" Lana said with a smile as she looked at the sheer mass of food they bought.

"Don't worry, we wouldn't let her sacrifice a chicken on your behalf." Gawain said clapping Lana on the shoulder with a bit more force than she was expecting, and she found herself sway into Tristan who steadied her.

"Ok, if you don't know how to cook anything get out of my kitchen." Isolde said firmly as she pulled a rather sharp looking knife from the butcher's block.

"Gentleman I think that's our cue." Lancelot said as Gawain, Arthur and Dagonet followed him from the room.

Isolde was about to start giving out directions when she noticed Tristan was still standing there staring at her with such a fixed gaze, she felt goose bumps.

"Come to cook with the girls, Tristan? I mean I know your hair is in a dire need of a cut but I didn't think that qualified you as a woman?" Guinevere said with a joking smile.

"She said if you don't know how to cook get out of the kitchen. I can be of some use I think." Tristan said shortly before washing his hands in the sink.

"Right... Guin can you heat the oven to 200 C, Karissa can you start on making the rice, Lana if you could cook the asparagus spears that are on the other side of Karissa, and Tristan I am trusting you with a knife... filet the eggplant."

"Aye, aye captain." Karissa said with a mock salute before heading off to boil some water.

Isolde began making the pesto stuffing for the egg-plant, and looked up for a moment to see Tristan fileting the eggplant perfectly and quickly. She smiled at him when he looked up and locked eyes with her, before she finished off the pesto and went to help Guinevere who was trying in vain to make the cream sauce for the rice.

"Isolde, you know what we are missing?" Karissa said once the rice was safely boiling.

"Please tell me that we didn't forget something at the grocery store." Isolde said in a moment of panic.

"No... We need music." Karissa said prodding Isolde with the end of a wooden spoon.

"Music... that is something I can handle." Guinevere said with a smile as she reached for a rather large looking device that resembled a game-boy but was in fact an all in one control remote for the house.

"_Listen baby! Ain't no mountain high,Ain't no valley low, Ain't no river wide enough baby._"

Everyone smiled as Marvin Gaye came out of the speakers which were hidden somewhere in the room. Immediately Karissa began singing into her wooden spoon to Guinevere who joined in with her. Isolde started singing also while dancing from place as she made sure everything was getting done. Lana also started singing, which left Tristan standing alone not joining into the craziness.

He was going to keep his dignity for as long as he could, there was no way he was going to be caught singing that song. Lana wandered over to him and put her fingers on his cheeks forcing his firm scowl into a smile. He shrugged her off and went back to cutting up the egg plant.

Guinevere and Lana then started dancing around him, Guin taking his hands so that he couldn't cut the eggplant anymore and forcing his arms into a sort of dance while he stood as still as a post. Karissa started singing especially to him and Tristan attempted to break free. When he did he received a splat of pesto sauce on his cheek.

"Oops." Isolde said before cracking up laughing with the rest of the girls.

Hearing the laughter and the music coming from the room, the rest of the 'manly men' as they dubbed themselves came to see what was going on. Tristan turned to look at them sauce still dripping down his cheek, and a lovely splatter across his previously pristine white dress shirt and the rest all began laughing at them, including Arthur who was doing a horrible job of hiding his laughter.

"Who is responsible for this one?" Gawain asked a huge grin spreading on his face.

Isolde was on the receiving end of many pointed fingers and she did her best innocent grin and shrugged.

"Brilliant!" Lancelot shouted as he picked her up into a bone crushing hug.

"Lancelot, if you don't keep that girl of yours in check, she's going to get herself in a lot of trouble." Tristan said in a dark voice as he wiped the sauce from his face.

Isolde noted the venom in his voice when he said 'girl of yours' it was almost as if it hurt him to say it.In retort she stuck her tongue out at him and went back to preparing the meal with the rest of the girls while Tristan went upstairs to go get changed.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

The dining room was done in gorgeous wood paneling with a chandelier hanging from the center of the room over the 18th century wood table and matching chairs. It was probably designed for a stately Lord at the time who held important dinners right where they all now sat. Unfortunately, they were hardly as proper as that English Lord, and even worse when the alcohol kept on flowing.

"A toast to our fabulous chefs, whom without we would starve to death." Arthur said raising his glass.

Cheers were said all around, and everyone set into eating their food. Isolde was smiling to herself proud that she could still remember some things her Grandmother taught her. Sure, it wasn't as fantastic as Granny Rosa's cooking but it was still rather mouth-watering in her opinion.

"Will you marry me so I can eat like this all the time?" Gawain said to Isolde before getting smacked upside the head by Karissa.

"No, she's already marrying me because I'm more attractive than you are, it's a genetics thing, you can't help it." Lancelot said before playfully punching Gawain in the arm.

"Yes, unfortunately though, all that imbreeding must have impaired him mentally... it's a genetics thing... you can't help it." Dagonet said with an overly pitying tone before patting Lancelot on the shoulder.

Everyone was laughing hysterically now, and more liquor was dispensed among the crowd.

"Tomorrow morning, we need to be up bright and early. So don't go drinking yourself into a bunch of hangovers." Arthur stated as he noticed that Lancelot, Dagonet and Gawain were all on their fourth glass of wine.

They all chuckled and continued on eating. Lancelot's hand kept ending up in Isolde's lap and she kept smacking him for it, and he would grin cheekily, and wink at Tristan. After little things like this kept happening, Isolde began to realize what Lancelot was doing and she loved him for it.

"Alright, everyone give me your plates." Isolde said after the majority seemed to have stopped eating.

"Isolde, you cooked us dinner, you are doing the dishes too!" Guinevere stated.

"It's alright, I've got it." Karissa said with a smile as she began to collect the dishes.

Gawain helped her with those she didn't have room for and followed her into the kitchen. Tristan and Lana rose from the table, her giving him a kiss and a lustful look before dragging him upstairs. Isolde took her wine glass in to the kitchen when she saw this, and walked in on them instead kissing each other rather sweetly. Not wanting to be a gooseberry, she left her glass and headed out into the hallway.

It appeared that most people had already headed to their rooms for the night, so Isolde went up to hers and Lancelot's. She heard the shower running, and found now was the perfect opportunity to change without him staring. She wasn't an overtly modest girl, but having Lancelot oggle her before bed would put ideas in his head she didn't want him to have.She slipped on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a white tank top before crawling into the bed and attempting to find a way to fall asleep without thinking about Tristan and Lana.

It was all too much for her and her eyes were moist with tears underneath their lids, though she was not going to let herself cry over him. She found a modicum of comfort when Lancelot got into the bed and instead of doing something cheeky, just spooned with her, holding her in his arms until she fell asleep where instead of being tormented in reality, she was tormented by her dreams.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"What do you mean?" Isolde said with tears falling down her cheeks as she sat up in his bed.

"I have to go, Isolde. We were only to be stationed here for a brief period of time, we have to return to the wall. I am bound to Rome, you've known that since the day you met me, what choice do I have?" He spat back.

"You could leave Tristan, we could go to Ireland. They wouldn't find us there..." Isolde pleaded.

"I cannot go with you." Tristan said firmly, his own eyes betraying his true sadness in the matter.

Isolde pulled her shift over her as she rose from the bed. She continued getting dressed hastily and was about to run out of the room when he pulled her back to him and kissed her. Isolde pushed him off.

"Tristan, have I not sacrificed for you? You know that I would be killed if they found out that I dishonored my husband as I have by being with you. Yet I did it anyway, for you. And you cannot even do this for me. I must go now, for my husband is waiting for me. Goodbye, Tristan, I hope you will stay safe at your new post."

When she was gone Tristan punched one of the wood beams in his room, splinters embedding themselves in his knuckles as they began to bleed. But he kept staring at the door hoping she would come back once more...she didn't.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_Here are the responses to your reviews. So long as you keep reviewing, I will keep responding no matter how long it takes me to do so! It's only fair. Now here we go..._

_Dferveiro- I never claimed to not be a tease. But yes, I like to leave hints here and there just to get everyone excited about the next chapter. Though I think I could tell you someone blows their nose, and you'd all leap for joy._

_TreetopScout- Isolde's friends are actually kind of based on the relationship I have with my friends. But I'm glad you relate to it as well, I think all friendships are kind of crazy in the best way possible to some degree. But the knights aren't dirty and bloody here...they are nice and lemony fresh. I made them shower. It was for the good of all parties involved._

_June Birdie- Yeah, Lana is gonna get the short end of the stick. I wasn't really considering a Lana/Lance pairing but maybe... we'll see what happens. _

_MedievalWarriorPrincess- Its ok, I forgive you for not reviewing. :) Yeah, Tristan is extremely jealous. But to quote "Anger Management" there are two kinds of people in this world. The customer who is yelling at the cashier over the tiniest mess up in price, and the cashier who sits there and takes it day after day until finally they shoot up the entire place. Now, I'm not saying Tristan is going to shoot some people. But it won't be pretty. Yeah, (note how I keep starting sentences with Yeah) I wanted to keep the personalities of our knights as close as I could to the way they were in the movie, while blending them into the modern world. Hope you enjoyed the chapter._

_Addicted2LancelotAndTristan- I know I fail at life for still not having seen the movie, but what can I do? Glad to know you liked the chapters._

_LancelotTristanBaby- I don't think "very exciting weekend" begins to cover what I have in store for everyone. You got a glimpse of that in this chapter, but I assure you the next one is equally as funny._

_KnightMaiden- I hope you are getting a better idea of how Lancelot is going to play cupid now that you've seen a glimpse of it. Lana and Tristan have been together for three years, they won't break up overnight. And I've already sowed the seeds for a falling out between them, it just needs a couple more things to send them over the edge. And don't worry its coming soon._

_BrownEyedGirl1- Can I just say that your review made me crack up laughing when I read it? I just pictured someone shaking my shoulders, slapping me and then screaming "For the love of god woman update faster!" It was too much, I think the caffeine might have made it funnier than it actually was. Ah well._

_Firbereth- Yes, Tristan did deserve it. But as you can see, the Tristan punishing has only just begun. The poor poor Scout. And the fact that you check your email twice a day to see if I've updated is really sweet, I try to update every few days, sometimes its faster or longer it depends on how busy I am._

_Jenni- Yeah, Lancelot is our matchmaker, a bit unconventional but he gets the job done. I had debated whether or not I wanted to wait longer for Isolde to talk to Lancelot, but I figured that I'd squash whatever they had right off and get to working on Tristan, I think you understand why._

_Lady Marek- I'd not be able to sleep if he was in the next room. Anyway, you are the 2nd person who has said I should put Lancelot with Lana. I don't know about the idea right now, but he's not pursuing Isolde either, so I guess you have a happy medium there._

_Lithium Addict- Lancelot is the bad boy that we all love, and occasionally want to smack, but mostly love. I'm glad you enjoy how I word things, sometimes I am not sure if I get my point across but then you review and I'm like phew got the job done. The character interactions in this chapter, and the next are probably some of the funniest in the story thus far. And yes, her boss knows what the sword is... But that is an explanation for another chapter down the line._

_Wanderer of the Roads- Isolde is kind of guarded with her emotions, so when she spills them, its kind of quick and fast, aka a virgin boy. I tried to show how hard it was for her to express grief at the beginning of the chapter, so her expressing what she feels for Tristan to Lancelot was a big step in her character development, or a moment of desperation, take it for what you will. That was a horrible analogy, I do apologize._


	11. Chapter 11

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

_A/N: Thank you to my readers for having so much patience with me during this time. It was very difficult for me to write let alone find time do it as I was having issues in my personal life. However, I am back and due to my prolonged absence. As now is becoming my custom, look for the responses to your reviews after the actual chapter. Without further adieu, I leave you to it._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde had woken early out of habit, and found that Lancelot's strong arm was still wrapped protectively around her waist. Her former source of comfort was now her source of hindrance, because if she did not find a way to disentangle herself shortly, she feared her bladder might explode. She reached downward and began to pry each individual finger from her body, taking great care not to cause such a disturbance that he would awaken. Finally after a few moments, she managed to free herself from all of them. Slowly she began to slide from the mattress, and took delight in placing a stuffed teddy under his arm instead. He would kill her for that when he woke up.

She slowly made her way into the bathroom, shutting the door gently behind her as she went about her business. Her face however was still puffy from crying, and she looked greatly the worse for wear. Stripping off her night-clothes she ran the tap and slid into the large antique bathtub. Allowing the scalding water to relax her tense muscles and cleanse her body of this ill-feeling she let her cares drift away. She would have to make inquiries into purchasing one of these tubs in the future, should she ever buy a home in the country.

Slipping on the terry cloth dressing gown that hung from the bathroom door she secured it tightly about her waist and put her still soaking wet hair up into a loose bun. It wasn't until the moment the cold air froze her feet that she regretted leaving her bunny slippers behind in London. However if it spared her the ridicule of Lancelot for the rest of her life, perhaps the threat of catching a cold was worth it.

Knowing that attempting to get dressed in the dark when her clothes were tucked away in her bags, would cause a large enough disturbance to wake Lancelot and all she wanted to do was have some peace. She slipped from the room and down the stairs, which nearly frightened her to death when they creaked quite suddenly. When her pulse was once more in check, she continued the rest of the way down to the kitchen.

She practically cringed when her eyes were assaulted with the artificial light. But once they had adjusted, she set about making herself some tea. A welcome cup of earl grey in her hand, she headed to the small study she had seen earlier but had no the pleasure of exploring. It was a lovely room with rich mahogany paneling and shelves full of many old leather bound books. Setting her tea down on the ornate desk, she browsed the collection until she came upon one she had long been meaning to read, but had scarcely ever found the time for. An entire cup of tea and several biscuits she nicked from the kitchen later, she was nearly half-way through the novel. When a voice broke through her reverie.

"I hardly ever expected to find someone who was up so early as myself."

"Arthur, I find that this is a rather masochistic habit I have developed due to my work. If I am at all in your way, I can go to the parlor or back to my room or.." Isolde stammered as she rose to her feet and started to clear up her mess.

"Please, it is not necessary. What are you reading?" He said peering at the volume currently clutched in her hand.

"Pride and Prejudice." He read aloud as she showed him the cover.

"I had not ever read it before and now I find that I can't put it down." Isolde said with a smile.

"It is a good novel. It reminds everyone that we must look beyond our current conceptions of people because we might be entirely mistaken...that everyone might just deserve a second chance because who knows, you might love them after all." Arthur's eyes twinkled when he said this before he quit the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Isolde let out an intake of breath, she wasn't quite sure why Arthur said what he said, but it was extremely unnerving to hear it. She waited a moment until she was sure that he would not change his mind and claim usage of the desk after all, before she resumed reading once more. She passed the rest of the morning this way, until a bustle in the hall caused her to put her marker in her book. Stretching out her muscles which had become accustomed to the lounged position she had ended up in, she headed out to find a slew of staff arriving and heading to the kitchen where she assumed Arthur and Guinievere were waiting.

Noting that her attire, wasn't exactly conducive to wandering about the house with everyone up and about for she didn't even have her bra or knickers on. Heading up to her room to dress, she was startled when for the second time in the past two days she collided with someone. Luckily for Isolde it was Dagonet and not Tristan. Smiling sheepishly she looked up at him, but he didn't make any indication that her walking at full force into his chest caused him the least bit of discomfort, after all, Dagonet was a large man.

"I am sorry, I always seem to keep doing that to people." Isolde finally said.

"Its quite alright, no harm done." Dagonet said gently before continuing on his way.

Taking a deep breath she plunged into her own room to find Lancelot yet again partially dressed.

"Will you please put your trousers on?" Isolde said with mock indignity as she began to go through her bag for her own clothes.

"Look who's talking." Lancelot replied with a self satisfying smirk.

It was only then that she realized that her dressing gown had begun to come undone and was exposing a great deal of leg as well as a sharp v-neckline that would have made J-Lo proud. She quickly righted herself before throwing the nearest object she could find at Lancelot's head which just happened to be her sneaker.

He caught it of course, which caused Isolde to mutter 'cheeky wanker' under her breath as she settled on her outfit for the day. It had been made known that Arthur and Guinevere wanted to see the town of Alston which would therefore require a great deal of walking and no need for formalities.

She grabbed her things and hurried into the bathroom, seeing Lancelot make an expression that went something like 'dang' before she shut the door entirely, and then locked it. She had chosen a white cashmere sweater that Bridget had given her last Christmas and a pair of comfortable jeans. Her hair was still wet, and she cringed as she began to brush out the knots that were starting to form before pulling it back into a slick ponytail. Practical and cute she should think.

Upon exiting the w.c. she began to put on one sneaker, only to realize that she did not see the other. It was only then she saw Lancelot smirk and shake her sneaker at her.

"Give me my trainer." Isolde huffed as she went over to him and tried to grab it.

"I should think not, you did throw it at me after all." Lancelot retorted as he held it higher.

"This is absurd give me back my shoe." Isolde said trying again with a small hop to grab it.

But it was no good, Lancelot was a lot taller than her, and she had no help of getting the shoe on her own. It was then that she had come up with quite a brilliant idea.

"Dearest Trouble give it back this instant." Isolde said in a sickly sweet voice.

"No... I don't think I shall." He said smiling all the same.

It was then when Isolde feigned jumping for the shoe that she promptly, and oh so delightfully kneed him in the groin. Lancelot's smirk immediately changed into an expression of pain and the trainer fell to the ground with a clunk, shortly followed by Lancelot falling to the ground.

Isolde picked up her trainer with a smile, and put it on. Walking over to where Lancelot was still in a ball on the ground she pet his head condescendingly and headed out the door.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde had just gotten back downstairs when she saw Guenevere, Lana and Karissa about to head out the door dressed in athletic wear. Karissa bounded over to Isolde when she saw her practically knocking her over in the process.

"We are going running, you should come." Guenevere said with a smile as she adjusted her ponytail and began talking to Lana about the best method of jogging.

"Karissa, you never want to go running." Isolde said questioningly in a hushed voice.

"Well, this is different. Besides, Lana was on her Universities' track team, and Guenevere goes running everyday. I thought it would be good to try and get to know them. Come on, you know you want to." Karissa said quickly.

"Alright, let me just go put on a different pair of pants and I'll catch you up." Isolde said before rushing back upstairs.

Lancelot had just come out of their room and was catching his breath. He instinctively covered his groin lest she attempt to knee him again. In her rush she neglected to shut the door. She threw off her sweater and began to undo her jeans and pull on a pair of sweats. Lancelot, had re-entered the room for another verbal sparring match but just stared slack jawed at her, and at that moment a knock sounded on the door followed shortly by Tristan's entering the room. Isolde looked up with horror in her eyes before she dived behind the bed.

"I am sorry... I didn't mean... I had no...I'll be outside." Tristan stammered before heading back out into the hallway.

He had thought Isolde left with the rest of the girls who he had seen jogging down the driveway out towards the road. He certainly was not expecting to walk in Isolde in the process of changing, in that one moment everything seemed to leave his head and he felt colour rushing to his cheeks. Imagine him, Tristan who was born with the same expression always planted on his face, blushing like a little school girl.

A few moments later Isolde emerged from the room fully dressed, and carefully made sure to avoid Tristan's gaze as she took the stairs two at a time. Lancelot walked out of the room after her his tongue massaging the inside of his cheek, which was reddened from her hand print, as he watched her go down the stairs.

"She's a feisty one...But it makes sex all the better. Is Lana as passionate?" Lancelot said with a wink

"I am not about to start discussing my sex life with you Lancelot." Tristan replied before heading off in search of Gawain, he knew that she wasn't.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Never...let...me...go...running...again." Karissa said wheezing as she grasped on to Isolde's shoulder for support.

"Come on, we are almost back to the manor now...don't give up." Lana said hanging back.

She was having no trouble at all with the run, and that infuriated Isolde to no end. Guenevere slowed her pace so that she was running on par with Karissa and Isolde. Though she was quite athletic, she was not as insane as Lana was when it came to running.

"Isolde if you are having trouble you should slow down." Lana said condescendingly.

This only caused Isolde however to push forward at a faster pace. Her body wanted to kill her but Isolde's will was too determined to not let Lana win. Lana upon seeing this impromptu competition took off keeping stride with Isolde with ease.

"You don't want to hurt yourself, you should slow down." Lana shouted.

"Speak for yourself." Isolde retorted before rounding the corner into the driveway.

However the gravel of the drive had scattered slightly on to the road, and in Isolde's blind determination she didn't see it. Her legs went out from beneath her, causing her arms to drag along the gravel.

"Isolde!" Karissa and Guenevere both shouted having seen the spill from the road.

Lana who was nearby was the first to help her up. It was obvious through her sleeve how badly she had been hurt, because the blood was already beginning to stain it.

"Bloody hell." Isolde muttered as she stood again. Her arm stung and her entire side hurt from colliding with the pavement.

"Lets get you inside, my brother can fix you up." Lana said quickly.

Isolde leaned on Karissa for support as the women made their way inside the manor. Leading Isolde to the kitchen they sat her down on one of the chairs. The new staff looked entirely confused, by the scenario and began whispering amongst themselves.

"Guen see if the staff can find you some medical supplies, I'll get Dag."

Lana bounded out of the room and up the stairs searching for her brother. She found him and the rest of the men at billiards, and immediately called them away. Dagonet looked determined, Arthur and Gawain concerned, and Lancelot _and_ Tristan both had brows etched with worry.

The staff had produced an array of bandages and anti-septic cleaners which were now in a small pile on the Island. Karissa and Guenevere had cut the sleeve from Isolde's ruined shirt, and were now working on wiping away the blood so that the real damage could be seen.

"How did she fall?" Dagonet said as he washed his hands off in the sink.

"She was racing Lana and she took the corner too fast and slipped on the gravel." Karissa answered.

Isolde winced as Dagonet turned her arm, little tiny gravel pebbles had embedded themselves in her flesh. She was thankful that she had worn longer sleeves because they had protected her arms some what.

"Oh that is a beauty..." Gawain said as he leaned in closely to inspect the wound.

"So I take it you didn't win then?" Lancelot said with a grin as Isolde let out another pained noise.

"Dagonet perhaps it would be best if we sent her to the Hospital..." Arthur suggested.

"No, there is no need. I just need some tweezers to remove the gravel, the wounds aren't exactly pretty but they don't require stitches." Dagonet stated as he gently wiped off the blood that had once again begun to pour out of her wounds.

"How is it that you know so much about injuries?" Isolde said as she watched him pick out the gravel.

"I'm an army field doctor."

He worked diligently making sure to get every single rock. Once that was done he poured a bit of solution on to a cloth and swabbed off her arm. Nearly everyone in the room jumped when Isolde decided to let out a loud string of curses after that.

Not dealing very well with blood Lana removed herself from the room and Lancelot, Karissa and Gawain went with her to keep her company.. Arthur kept insisting that Isolde see a doctor when she went home, to which she replied, "Does Dagonet not count as a doctor?" She was going to have some pretty bruising along her right side tomorrow, and she was already feeling it now.

While Dagonet cleaned up the supplies, Isolde slid from the chair on to her feet. She clenched her teeth as she walked attempting to make it to the salon where she could throw herself upon the couch and be done with it.

"I wouldn't recommend walking, you just need to lie down with a few pain killers in you. Tristan can you carry her up to her bed while I get the medication." Arthur stated.

Tristan didn't need asking twice and had scooped Isolde up in his arms before she had time to protest. He settled her against his chest and positioned his hands to be as gentle as he could on her wounds. Isolde shut her eyes as pain coursed through her body and took in a deep breath. All she could smell however was Tristan's woodsy cologne.

He gently placed Isolde on the bed, removing her sneakers so that she could be more comfortable.

"Deja vu..." Isolde said with half a smile.

"Why were you so reckless?" He stated as he covered her with the blanket.

"I wanted to beat Lana..." Isolde said with a smile.

Tristan's eyes lit up in amusement as he brushed her hair from her face with his hand, allowing it to linger a bit longer than necessary on her cheek when Arthur came in holding a glass of water and two small white pills in his hand.

"Here we are... Ah Tristan, Lana was asking for you." Arthur said nodding his head as Tristan left the room.

"Thank you." Isolde said as she sat up long enough to take the pills and swallow water without choking upon them.

"You are welcome. Just rest for now. I'll send Lancelot up later with some food... or perhaps you would prefer Tristan?" Arthur said with a smile before leaving the room.

Isolde's mouth dropped and then shut abruptly. She found herself dozing off, and realized that Arthur must have given her something to sleep instead of something for pain.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde sat on the edge of the knight, Tristan's, bed running a cool cloth over his head. He had been brought in nearly two days ago with an infected wound, and his fever had been raging ever since. She was not but fifteen summers and he looked to be several years her senior. Isolde looked upon him with curious eyes, studying the shape of his jaw and his stoic countenance, the lines of his muscles and the scruffy beard growing on his chin. She pressed the back of her hand to his cheek to feel if the warmth had subsided when his hand reached up and grasped hers bringing it to his mouth so he could place a kiss on her palm. Isolde pulled her hand away, a faint blush on her cheeks.

"You need to rest, or your fever will never break. And I don't think Arthur will look kindly upon me if I kill one of his knights."

"I have no inclination to get well again, if it means a beautiful woman shall wait on me day and night, and watch over me while I sleep." Tristan said with a twinkle in his eye.

"You are delirious sir, please calm yourself." Isolde stated turning away from him but he took hold of her arm once more forcing her to look at him.

"No, I am not delirious."

"You hardly know me, do not be so forward." Isolde replied as she dipped the cloth back into the water and wrung it out once more.

"I feel as if I have known you forever."

"I shall leave you now to tell Arthur how his knight fares..." Isolde bowed her head to him and left the room.

Once safely outside its door, she allowed her face to be consumed by a smile as her palm still tingled with Tristan's kiss. Forever indeed! That man would be her undoing.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

**To my reviewers...** (_This may be the last time I respond to everyone's reviews though I do enjoy getting them, it just ends up being a bit much_)

**Addicted2LancelotAndTristan-** _I think everyone wants to know if Lancelot feels for Isolde... But I don't think Tristan will ever let us get the chance to find out._

**KnightMaiden-**_ Lancelot might have his own girl soon. That's all I have to say. And though you didn't get a falling out in this chapter, rest assured the big kaboom is occurring next_.

**Jenni-** _The cooking scene was my favorite part also just because whenever my friends and I cook together there is always dancing and singing with spatulas._

**Priestess of the Myrmidon-** _Still haven't seen the movie -cheshire cat grin-_

**Lady Marek- **_You are my 100th review! Yay! So many people wonder if Tristan has the dreams that Isolde has... and well I don't think I'm going to answer that question for now. My story is really focused in on Isolde obviously, so we won't find out about if he does or not unless she asks him about it. _

**Dferveiro**- _Did you enjoy their alone time? Better times to come I promise you._

**Sweet Krab Whacka- **_You flatter me. I'm glad you enjoy my story, and yes I like to allude to various different books and movies when writing. The allusion to Pride and Prejudice in this chapter was a shameless plug for my other story however._

**LithiumAddict**- _I'm glad I inspired such insane amounts of laughter. You seem to enjoy thinking about Tristan's extra-curricular activities, then again who doesn't? And Lancelot is a lot more than we took him to be. As many before have asked, maybe he does really like Isolde...then again maybe not. I enjoy your sneaky tactics to leave me two reviews for one chapter. I'm glad you enjoyed that final scene, I enjoyed writing it and I agree the imagery it invokes is powerful. Thanks again._

**Firbereth**- _Everyone loves the kitchen sequence, and I have had varying views as to whether Tristan should suffer or not. I felt like being nice this chapter, not so much next one though_.

**Medieval Warrior Princess_-_**_ I'm happy you enjoyed the chapter that much. There were quite a few funny lines in there if I might say so myself, but I can't help it when both Gawain and Lancelot are involved. :)_

**Sekhmet88**- _As I mentioned to someone earlier, big boom comes next. I wanted to make Lana hate-able, but not the entirely evil character that the other woman always seems to be in these situations. See my response to Lady Marek regarding the dreams. As for your second question all I can say is :) . Isolde is very much a mental image for me, Karissa is actually based on my beta-reader for another story, Lana would be sort of like Rosamund Pike and Shelby would be like Sienna Guillory. Good questions._

**Chaos-** _4 in the morning! Wow, I can say I've done that with some stories before. It means a lot that you would forgo sleep for mine. Coffee is on Lancelot, and the dream sequence question that everyone has. All I can say is wait and see._

**Thanks to:** _Scouter, 404, BrownEyedGirl1, WandererOfTheRoads, and Chakrum girl_


	12. Chapter 12

**"Timeless"**by SheWalksWithRavens

A/N: _Alas our poor heroine is injured, whatever shall we do? This is the long awaited chapter, that sets everything straight...what I have begun to refer to in replies to reviews as: "the big kaboom." I hope it lives up to your expectations. Its got a little bit of everything for everyone, I think. _

_I would like to take the opportunity to thank my lovely shiny, brand spanking new beta for this story, Priestess of the Myrmidon. Thanks bunches! And she has informed me that its against the rules apparently, to respond to reviews in my story...whoops. So now I am going to be using the review reply button . And without further adieu, enjoy chapter twelve guys...it's the longest yet!_

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV **

After Arthur had informed Tristan that Lana was searching for him, he quit the room immediately, albeit reluctantly. He could hear her light laugh coming from downstairs intermingled with Gawain's low chuckle and Karissa's giggle. He walked slowly and quietly, the stairs not creaking underneath his weight, nor did his shoes click upon the floor.

Entering the room he found everyone at a game of cards. Lancelot no doubt had persuaded them to play the game, for he was rather fond of it. Lana looked up and saw Tristan observing them and ushered him over to play.

"You must join us Tristan, taking Lancelot's money is so much fun." Guinevere stated with a laugh.

"I let you win that hand." Lancelot defensively.

"Sure, out of gentlemanly kindness no doubt." She replied.

"Which is also of course why he let Gawain, Dagonet and Karissa win before you." Lana pointed out.

"Cards are too easy; I prefer something that takes real skill." Tristan stated firmly before seating himself on the piano bench in the corner.

The others laughed at him and returned to their game, while Tristan ghosted his hands over the keys of the piano. He felt Lana come up from behind him and start to rub his shoulders, in what she thought to be a comforting manner. Tristan however, wanted only to be left alone.

"Play something." She whispered into his ear.

Tristan merely shook his head and shut the lid down over the keys. He rarely played the piano, and was far from perfect. Because of his desire to appear deft in everything that he did, acknowledging his lack of proficiency would merely destroy the illusion he had built up for his friends.

"Are you finished with your game so soon?" He said changing the subject.

"It isn't as much fun if you aren't there, besides I think Guinevere and Gawain have Lancelot safely backed into a corner. How was Isolde when you left her?" Lana said watching his eyes.

She had become quite aware of Tristan's attachment to Isolde, even if she did not know the particulars of it. The look in his eyes as he watched that other woman was enough to tell Lana that she was not special enough. For Tristan had never stared at her with as much intensity and longing as he did when he looked upon Isolde. And she had seen Isolde look at him much the same, though Tristan did not seem to notice which was odd considering his powers of observation seemed to rival that of most males.

"She seemed well enough... I believe Arthur gave her something to help her sleep." Tristan said diverting his gaze.

"I feel as though if I am at fault for what happened today, that I should not have goaded her on further by racing her. But you and I are alike; we always have to be the best at what we do." Lana stated sitting facing the opposite direction as him on the piano bench.

"It was her decision to race you, so don't worry yourself over something that was beyond your control." Tristan said evenly.

"She is quite stubborn I must admit. And I suppose you are right; I did try to warn her, after all. I guess there is something endearing in her determination to continue on even if she doesn't have a chance." Lana then kissed him briefly on the lips as if to remind him that she was his before going back to the others.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV **

Isolde woke slowly, and the groggy effects of the medication were still present in her system. It took her a few moments to focus her eyes, and she noted by the waning sunlight that she had slept the majority of her day away.

"So she finally awakens...How are you feeling?" Karissa said from her position in the arm chair to the right of the bed.

"You make me feel like a hospital patient, you know that? But I feel like I have been hit by a bus to put it bluntly. What time is it?" Isolde said with a yawn.

"Nearly five. The others went into town to explore, but I volunteered to sit with my favorite roommate in the whole wide world."

"I am touched, really I am. To know that you could bear to part with your precious Gawainster for more then ten minutes is truly comforting." Isolde said with a grin.

Karissa, in response, hit Isolde's arm. Unfortunately this was the bandaged arm and it sent a wave of pain up her arm.

"Oh bullocks Karissa, are you daft or something?" Isolde said through clenched teeth.

"I'm so sorry... I forgot." Karissa said wincing.

"Yes well, if you want me to forgive you, you could go downstairs and get me some more Tylenol."

"Right, of course..." Karissa said as she immediately retreated from the room.

Isolde shut her eyes again flexing her arm muscles which, though painful, were still tolerable. She heard the door to the room get pushed open further and thanked God that Karissa had come back so fast with the Tylenol.

"I'm prepared to forgive you. I just hope that you brought me a glass of water, because I can't swallow pills without it."

"I don't have pills or water, but will you still forgive me if I have coffee?" Came Lancelot's voice from the doorway.

"I thought you were Karissa... However, coffee takes precedent over all other things in life so it is most readily accepted." Isolde said with a smile trying to sit up.

Lancelot placed the coffee on the night stand and using one arm supported Isolde's back while he positioned the pillows with the other as to allow her as much comfort as possible.

"Fluffing my pillows, bringing me coffee, you are quite the attentive lover Mr. Trouble." Isolde said smirking as she took a sip of her hot coffee.

"Yes, I am quite the knight in shining armor, am I not?" Lancelot said with a cheeky grin before ruffling Isolde's hair in a brotherly manner.

"You are. In fact, I am so taken with you, I dare say if I weren't incapacitated right now, I'd be forced to take advantage of you." Isolde joked.

"You may take advantage of me whenever you like." Lancelot replied in all seriousness before kissing Isolde's hand with an over-dramatic smooching sound which caused her to laugh.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV **

Tristan hadn't been able to get Isolde out of his thoughts since that morning, or more specifically the smile she had given him. What was worse was that Lana seemed to have picked up on his interest in Isolde, though she was more of an obsession. When the group had gone to the wall, to take pictures and enjoy the beautiful day, he had stood apart thinking of their encounters in this very spot.

Isolde was not like any one he had ever met before, and yet in his gut he knew that she was the only one ever truly meant for him. It was this pull he had towards her, this undeniable attraction which superseded mere lust, and that was driving him insane. He had thought he could temper the jealousy that he had felt when he saw her with Lancelot, for she had at first glance seemed happy with him. But, the green-eyed monster would not be denied.

So Tristan brooded, and watched Lancelot enviously as he kept intimating how fortunate he was to have Isolde. After a while, he began to realize that Isolde must have told Lancelot somewhat of what had passed between them, and he enjoyed rubbing it in Tristan's face. Well, he was at least partially correct.

"Tristan what do you think?" came Arthur's voice breaking him from his reverie.

"I like it very much." Tristan responded.

This must have been a satisfactory answer because no one was at odds with what he said. As soon as Tristan went back into his silent musings however Arthur took a moment to speak to his best friend.

"This is a quaint countryside." Lancelot said with a hint of sarcasm as he watched the three women picking wild-flowers and scampering about in the high grass.

"Indeed, it isn't exactly London or Rome but Guinevere seems to love it which is enough for me."

"If only Guinevere had a twin then we both might be happy."

"Isolde does not make you happy?" Arthur said selectively ignoring the comment which suggested that Lancelot was interested in Guinevere.

"She does. She is quite a handful, and if she were not already over the moon for someone else, I wouldn't hesitate."

"I noticed that myself... It is an interesting situation. I have never before seen Tristan so distracted."

"Well perhaps, if he stops being such a half-wit he'll realize what's good for him."

"And what of Lana?"

"I think she already knows, so it's only a matter of time." Lancelot responded his eyes lingering a bit longer than normal on Lana's golden hair and her pleasant smile.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV **

When everyone returned home, Tristan saw Lancelot disappear up the stairs, a cup of coffee in hand that he had picked up in Alston for her. The familiar twinge in the pit of his stomach made him look away. And yet, he followed Lancelot upstairs destined for the solitude of his own room.

He paused outside his door, picking up on the rhythmic sound of Isolde's voice through the stone walls. He could not hear her exact words, but yet again it seemed that Lancelot was making her happy in a way that he could not. And as if to add further insult to injury, he heard the loud sound of a kiss. His fist balled, knuckles cracking and he entered his room without a second thought, slamming the door shut behind him.

Striding to the window, he threw it open to catch the first beats of a drizzling rain against his skin. The weather seemed to be mirroring his mood perfectly. His hands firmly positioned on the sill, he watched as the lush countryside disappeared behind the grey rain curtain of the storm, until the sun had set completely bathing the world in darkness.

"Tristan, shut that window, you'll get sick." Lana said like a concerned mother when she entered the room.

"I never get sick." He responded still staring out the window.

"Well, Superman, one of these days you will. And I will merely sit there and say ˜I told you so.'"

"Is supper to be held soon?" He said finally withdrawing from the window.

"Guinevere said we were eating at half-past six, so we have about twenty minutes. I suggest you take this opportunity to change, for your clothes are damp." Lana said as she fingered the material of his shirt before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Tristan walked past her casting aside his current shirt into the hamper while opening the wardrobe to pull out a black cable knit sweater and slip it on. He turned to Lana, raising his eyebrows in a manner that asked her 'is this better?'

"Perfect. You know, I got a lot of great photographs today. And quite a few of you looking incredibly pensive, but then again when do you not?" Lana said as she packed away her camera.

"I am and always have been a silent observer and thinker. You knew this when you first met me, and yet you seem to favor my incredible pensiveness as you put it." Tristan replied as he flicked his hair from his eyes.

"I did... and still do. I just want to know what I have to do to get you to be happy."

"Lana, please..." Tristan started when she cut him off

"I am not stupid Tristan, nor am I blind, nor deaf or any other wise incapable of knowing that you don't love me. I have tried in vain to get you to. But no matter how much I gave, I never felt it. Then I come here, and I see how you watch Isolde. And I thought to myself 'What is so wrong with me? Why did Tristan never want me like he wants her?' I spoke to Dagonet and I am going to go with him back to Moscow. I need some time to see my family, and to just get away. I sincerely hope that she is what you are looking for, and that she will make you happy. "

"I am sorry for everything Lana, but I do truly love you." Tristan felt Lana's hands on his lips.

"Don't... its hard enough as it is to give the love of your life free license to be with someone else. I just need to...I'll meet you downstairs, I need some time to think." Tristan picked up her hand and kissed it in a silent 'thank you' before he left the room.

He had never wanted to hurt Lana like this. But she had given him the opportunity to be with Isolde and for that he would be eternally grateful. As soon as Tristan left the room, Lana began to shake and let the tears she had been holding back fall. She had never truly understood the term a broken heart until that moment, for it felt as if she had just been cleaved in two.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Lancelot had sat on the bed chatting idly with Isolde, attempting to keep her happy while she remained confined to her bed under Dr. Dagonet's orders. Despite her extreme discomfort, she tried repeatedly to extract herself from the bed but Lancelot would not have it. Karissa eventually returned with Isolde's pain killers, apologizing for being so forgetful before running off to become distracted yet again by Gawain. Lancelot had been fussing over Isolde's incapacitation like a mother hen, which, in itself, was rather amusing.

"I think you just enjoy my current state of weakness."

"You've found me out! I like my women terribly bruised and injured." Lancelot said with a straight face before letting the hint of a grin appear at the corners of his mouth.

"Am I really terribly bruised?" Isolde said, all of a sudden self- conscious.

"Not terribly, but a little on your face. More so on your side and arm." Lancelot replied truthfully.

"Bloody terrific." Isolde groaned before sinking back into her pillow.

"Listen, dinner is being served now. Since you aren't allowed to leave, would you like me to send you up a plate after?" He asked as he made his way to the door.

"Yes, thank you." Isolde replied before turning to look at the surroundings she had memorized during her confinement.

She noticed however something on her night-stand that had not been there this morning. It was the copy of Pride & Prejudice that she had been reading. Arthur must have brought it up for her when she was resting. Reaching for it with her uninjured arm, she turned to her page marker and began to read again, thankful for the opportunity to have something to do.

Her eyes were starting to droop by the time she reached the last chapter of the book. But she forced them open again having to know precisely the particulars of what happened between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. She was not disappointed by the book at all. In fact she resolved to purchase her own copy when she returned home.

Isolde found it odd that her dinner had not yet been sent up, and her stomach was growling painfully. A lesson she had learned very early in life, was to never disobey her stomach it always won in the end. Pushing herself upward with all her strength she managed to swing her legs to the side of the bed.

Having extreme pain in your side was bad but coupling that with weakness from not having eaten all day was terrible. She found her way to standing on the floor, and had to grab hold of the bed post to stay her from falling over. Slowly she made her way to the door, stopping once more to grab hold of the frame, allowing it to support her weight for a few moments before continuing on again. In this fashion she managed to make it half-way down the stairs when she felt as though she was going to collapse.

Tristan had just been leaving supper with the rest when he decided to head upstairs to check on Isolde. It was a bold move, but he had been thinking too long without acting. He was entirely surprised when he found her clutching to the rail of the stair for dear life, as if at any moment she would fall to her death.

"Why on Earth are you out of bed?" He said immediately positioning her arm over his shoulder and taking all the weight off her body.

"I was hungry. Lancelot was supposed to have them send my food up, but I guess he forgot to tell them."

"That stupid man is always fouling things up..." Tristan mumbled under his breath before his dark eyes locked on to hers.

Isolde realized then that they were standing in the stairwell, leaning against one another in what could have been considered an intimate moment. She wasn't sure if she was dizzy or if he was actually getting closer to her, but when she felt his free hand gently cup her face, she knew that it wasn't her being delusional. She felt the flutter of butterflies as he leaned down, about to press his lips to hers, when a very loud and very long grumbled issued from her stomach ruining the moment.

Isolde just leaned her head back and laughed, while Tristan looked confused, not knowing what to do in that moment.

"I think it's safe to say that I really need food." Isolde stated suddenly becoming uncomfortable.

"Right, would you like to go back to bed and I can bring you something, or do you want to join the others in the dining room?"

"I would rather die a thousand deaths then lie down again, but I don't want everyone to see me so disheveled. I think I will just eat in the kitchen instead." Isolde said as she began to make her way to the kitchen.

Tristan allowed her the support that she needed to get there, and upon her arrival noted that the staff wasn't at their posts and that a tray had been set up with food for Isolde, but had been forgotten to be taken to her.

"Good to know that Arthur has the best people in all of Britain working for him." Isolde said sarcastically.

"I work for Arthur." Tristan stated and Isolde immediately realized her mistake.

"I was referring to the servants, but if you want to include yourself, feel free." Isolde dislodged herself from Tristan and lowered herself into a bar stool with the food in front of her.

She had eaten a few bites of the now room temperature pasta when she noticed that Tristan was just standing there staring at her. She paused with her fork mid-air and raised her eyes to look at him questioningly. When he made no inclination to respond to her physical gesture, she swallowed her mouthful and spoke.

"Why are you just standing there?"

"I am waiting for you to finish so I can take you back upstairs."

"Its rude to watch a woman eat, and I don't need you to take me upstairs, Lancelot can do it when he heads up."

"Right, I'll just inform him you are in here. Good night." Tristan said, somewhat disappointed before heading into the dining room to do just that. Isolde let out the breath she had been holding.

She couldn't forgive Tristan, even if she wanted to; he didn't deserve it. That is what she contented herself by thinking as she kept eating her meal, even though as soon as she could no longer feel him looking at her, she lost her appetite.

A few minutes later Lancelot arrived and took her back to bed, offering to help her undress to which he received a prompt slap in the face. Though it hurt like hell, Isolde managed to change out of her ruined clothes into an oversized tee. Having slept most of the day, she found that sleep eluded her. Disentangling herself from the bed clothes, she sat on the window seat peering out at the storm outside with her head pressed against the glass.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV **

Shortly after dawn the rain began to let up, and Isolde remembered that today was her last day in Alston before heading back to London. All in all, the trip was probably as awkward as it could ever be, and she would have a great time explaining what happened to her when everyone saw her bruises. Isolde let out a snort as she imagined their reactions.

She stretched her body out and yawned. The pain was beginning to lessen but too much movement did send it back again with a fury. Rising slowly, Isolde made her way to her bags grabbing a long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of jeans, along with her other essentials and headed into the bathroom. What she needed right now was another long hot bath to relax her muscles. Plus, she wanted to save this luxury while she still had the opportunity to.

Dressing as quickly as she could, she scrawled a quick note to let Lancelot and the rest know that she had gone for a drive and placed it beside him on the pillow. Grabbing the keys to her Mini-Cooper, she headed outside. The rain was still drizzling and she let it fall on her skin, tilting her head upwards for a moment before continuing on to her vehicle. She started it up, and was already breathing hard though she couldn't figure out why she felt so anxious all of a sudden.

Isolde pulled out of the driveway, and started heading towards her parents' house. They would have a fit if they knew she was in town and didn't stop to visit them, and after Lancelot's display with her outside the market, they were sure to know of it. Her mother probably thought Lancelot was her new beau and was attempting to plan another wedding, though of course of lesser standing to Bridget's.

'I wonder how dear old Bridget has been.' Isolde wondered since she hadn't spoken to her sister since her last visit.

It was odd, normally she'd call Isolde every few days to brag and boast about Gareth or to just brag and boast about herself. And Isolde would half-heartedly listen while going about some other task, and then they would say their goodbyes. Not hearing from her was starting to make her worry.

She turned down the road that led to both her parents house and towards the wall. She passed by the connecting lane that led straight to Hadrian's and continued on for about half a mile down the road before she abruptly pulled a U-turn and headed back to it. She hit the breaks suddenly, letting the car come to an abrupt stop in the little turn around designated for visitor parking.

Yanking her keys from the ignition, she got out of the car slamming the door shut behind her. The metal key-chain pressed securely against the flesh of her palm, she strode to the wall and looked at it. It was nothing more than a bunch of rocks piled atop one another with some mud holding them together. It wasn't special when it came down to it.

But this was the place she always ran to whenever she needed to think, and from now on it would only hold memories of Tristan. The minute she allowed herself to acknowledge the fact that all her unease was due to him, it consumed her. She hoisted herself on to the wall, spitting with pain in the process and lied down upon it.

When the sun finally broke through the clouds it illuminated the many puddles that had formed across the fields, making it appear as if veins of silver had sprung forth from the ground over night. After all of her times of coming up here, she had never seen anything quite like it. Then a cry sounded above her and she saw the hawk circling amongst the sun.

"I can never escape Tristan, can I?" She said out loud to herself.

"Not unless you tell him right now that you want him out of your life for ever." Isolde sat up immediately, looking at Tristan who looked as though he had about as much sleep as she had.

His hair was a mess sticking to his skin from the weather. Isolde personally thought that he had never looked more handsome.

"Why are you here?" Isolde began feeling self-conscious.

"I was looking for you." Tristan said coming closer.

"Great stalking." She replied rolling her eyes.

"Stop acting like a child."

"'Acting like a child?' That's funny because I wasn't the one who led a girl on when I had a girlfriend back home." Isolde hopped down from the wall, wincing in pain.

Tristan made a motion to go to her, but she held out a hand to stop him.

"You seemed like you never wanted to talk to me again after the night we spent together so I didn't bother to tell you about Lana."

"Oh, so because you figured, 'hey I'll never see her again, so no need to cause a scene by telling her that I have a girlfriend?' That's just ridiculous!" Isolde exclaimed as she began to walk back towards her car.

"What are you doing with Lancelot?"

"Excuse me?" She stopped in her tracks spinning around to face Tristan.

"It's a simple question... why are you with him?" He folded his arms over his chest.

"I am with him because he cares about me, and I love him."

"You are lying." Tristan said confidently.

Neither of them noticed that the sun had once more disappeared behind the clouds, or the cracking of thunder in the distance.

"What if I am? What difference does it make Tristan? If I admit to still having feelings for you, what good does that do me? You are with Lana!" Isolde yelled, hoping to frighten him with her volume, but only ended up encouraging him with her words.

"So you don't hate me..."

"Oh, I hate you! In fact I loathe you right now..." Isolde spat.

Tristan just looked at her, and cracked a bitter grin, tilting his face backwards as he laughed at the irony of the situation. Now that he was free to pursue her she didn't want anything to do with him; it was just too priceless.

"Don't laugh at me, damn it! This is not funny."

"Isolde, Lana left me because she knew I wanted to be with you."

"She what! When?"

"Yesterday, before dinner." Isolde looked relieved for a moment before she returned her face to the one of the Ice Queen.

"Good for you."

"I thought you would be happy about this."

"Oh yes, you broke up with your girlfriend so now I am supposed to throw myself into your arms and forget everything else?" Isolde started to walk away from him again, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him.

"No. God damn it Isolde! What do you want from me? I have been going crazy trying to figure this out, because you make no sense!"

"You want to know why I hate you? It's because that day, the day that I left. You received a phone call do you remember? You said it was Arthur, but something about it didn't seem right. So when you were in the bathroom I looked and saw that it was from 'Lana.'"

"You went through my cell phone?" Tristan said affronted.

"The point is, I really liked you Tristan and that's hard for me. You have no idea how hard that is still for me. For once in my life I felt like I found someone who gets me, who understands me... I can't sit by and let myself get hurt again by you."

The rain was now back with a vengeance as it drenched the ground and the two people foolishly arguing outside. Isolde was on the verge of tears as she looked at him, and he couldn't take it anymore.

"You think that I planned on falling in love with you when I came here? Do you think that I intended to cheat on my girlfriend?" he demanded.

Her mouth fell open, and her eyes softened considerably. He loved her? Had they been together enough to love one another? Was it even possible? She knew that for a fact it was because she had felt it too.

"You just said that you loved me..."

Tristan realized that he said more than he should have and turned away from her letting out a huff of breath. Isolde walked over to him placing her hand on his arm.

"Tristan?" He didn't turn to face her.

"What is the point of it? Your mind is already made up. I'll leave you be." Isolde groaned with frustration as his long legs took him further away from her.

"For Christ's sake Tristan, don't walk away from me!" she cried desperately.

He stopped and turned to look at her with utter disappointment and hurt in his eyes, which almost broke all her resolve.

"Not finished yelling at me yet?"

"I... I only was with Lancelot to make you jealous...When he told me he worked with you, I went out with him because there was a chance that I'd see you again. Even though I hated that you lied, even though I knew it would hurt me more, I had to see you. I am perhaps the stupidest pers--"

Isolde never got to finish her explanation, because Tristan had closed the distance between them with a few strides, pulling her to him and kissed her with such force that she was rendered senseless. All other things forgotten, she clung to him in that moment as if he was the only thing keeping her from falling and sinking down into the mud. Ignoring the pain that this was causing her arm and side, she hopped up, wrapping her legs around his waist, tangling her hands in his hair.

When they finally broke apart due to the need for oxygen, he placed her back on the ground and pushed the hair from her eyes.

"Isolde you will be my undoing," he groaned in a good natured manner.

She smiled up at him, content to just be with him and enjoy the rhythmic falling of the rain against their bodies and the chill of the air. There was no need to inform him that he had just given her more bruises, or that if they stayed out here much longer they would catch a cold. No. This was their moment and she was going to savor it for as long as she could.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV **

_There you have it folks...I hope you enjoyed it. Review for me please._


	13. Chapter 13

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

_A/N: I am alive, and this story isn't being abandoned. I have been so busy at school and with work it's ridiculous. But thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and for the many happy dances that occurred. This chapter is very much about back story and filling in some gaps I left so that we can get on with the rest of it. So I hope you like it and do review. Thanks to Priestess of the Myrmidon for beta-ing this chapter._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"_Isolde," shouted a woman's shrill voice. "Isolde!"_

_From her spot in the hay loft of the stables, Isolde let out a giggle. She began to pick out pieces of straw from her long dark hair and throw them at her companion in her enthusiastic mischief-making. Tristan glanced at her with amused eyes before reaching up and pulling out the pieces she had missed._

"_You, Sir, have gotten my mother quite cross with me," she chided before standing to brush out her skirts._

"_Well if she is cross already," Tristan said as he pulled Isolde back down to him into a pile of hay, "then I cannot see the harm in you spending a little while longer in here with me."_

"_That is your problem!" said Isolde jokingly. "You never see the harm in it. And though I would gladly spend forever in this hay loft with you, I have to get back to my chores."_

"_Do you swear it?"_

"_Swear what?" Isolde asked as she prepared to descend the wooden ladder that led to the ground._

"_Promise me that you'll spend forever with me," he begged of her, while attempting to sound nonchalant, but not succeeding in the least._

_She glanced up at him, as she had already begun to climb down the ladder. Smiling at the sincerity and care in his look and in his voice she did not hesitate in giving him her reply. _

"_I promise." _

_Isolde hurried from the stables to her small farm house. Her mother gave her a stern look when she entered, thoroughly disheveled. It was only then that Isolde noticed another man was in the room with her father by his side. The man was a Roman._

"_May I present my daughter, Isolde, to you Captain Aurealious Vincent Verious." _

_Isolde hastily made a curtsey to him. She then looked to her father for some sort of explanation as to what this man was doing here. Verious was a man who greatly surpassed her in age as well as brawn. Though not unattractive, she could not help but feel something vile about him._

"_Isolde, you are to marry Captain Verious. The arrangements have all been made."_

"_I hope that our union will be felicitous. You will enjoy Rome, I should think. But I must take my leave of you, for I have some soldiers to command," Verious said with a smile before sweeping from the room._

"_Marriage to a Roman? How came this?" Isolde said with a quivering voice._

"_Captain Verious is an honorable man. And you could not hope to marry better. He will provide you with a comfortable home and you will have the chance to get away from this life," her father responded._

_Isolde's mind was reeling, and all she could think of was Tristan and the promise she made him._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

She sat upright in her bed, pulling her knees to her chest. It was another dream, more realistic than the last and it certainly was a lot stranger. Isolde was halfway convinced she was going stark raving mad, but the way the dream pulled at her heart as if ripping it into tiny little pieces was far too real to be the workings of insanity.

When Tristan and Isolde had returned from the wall, soaking wet and in each others arms it didn't shock anyone in the house except for Gawain and Guinevere. Lana and Dagonet had left already wanting to avoid confrontation, and Isolde couldn't help but feel guilty that she caused this.

Lancelot had been as cheeky as ever, suggesting an 'Isolde share plan' with monthly minutes. For the idea, he received a punch to the arm from Isolde which was a bit harder than he had expected—he complained of having a bruise two weeks later when they were at lunch.

Two weeks of being together with Tristan, and Isolde felt the happiest she had been in years. She still stayed at her apartment with her favourite girls, but she didn't spend most of her time there. Instead after work she now retreated to the sanctuary like calm of Tristan's apartment. Flopping on to the plush couch, she would let the stresses of the museum fade away, and often fall asleep until Tristan came home from his job with Arthur.

He'd always find her there, with her suit jacket removed looking like an utter mess as she slept on his couch. Then Isolde would wake up to Tristan playing with her hair, or his lips placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. They would then have dinner, and Tristan was glad for the chance to eat meat once again.

It was almost like they had been married for years, except for the fact that they did not fight as often as most married couples were won't to do, and that they were not in fact married. But Isolde had started to picture herself married to Tristan, and the scary thing was that it was not at all scary.

Slipping from her bed covers, she made her way to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. The blinking of the answering machine however distracted her from the task at hand and she saw that she had two new messages on the machine. Hitting play, she continued to go about finding a glass as she listened to the machine beep and begin to rattle off the messages.

"Hello this is Dr. Michael's office calling to inform Shelby Huntington of her gynecological appointment this Thursday at one o'clock…."

Isolde snorted into her glass water before speeding past the rest of the message to the next one.

"Isolde? It's your mother. I hoped you were at home…Have you spoken to Bridget? I've tried calling her but she is not picking up. I'm really worried about her and the wedding is just a month and a half away now. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you drive out to her place to check on her…I know you are probably rolling your eyes right now, but she _is_ your baby sister. I've gotta go, your father is burning dinner."

Isolde set her glass down in the sink before taking a deep breath. Bridget not speaking to her mother and not answering her phone was like one of the signs of the impending apocalypse. As it was a Saturday, Isolde figured that she could drive out to Bridget's place and see what was wrong to sate both her mother's curiosity and her own.

It was around ten in the morning when Isolde finally left her apartment and headed out to the Wimbledon area of London. Bridget had outdone Isolde yet again when she moved in with Gareth to his posh home in a gated community. Isolde could never afford something like that; there wasn't a large brick home with ivy covered walls in her future with her income at the Museum.

Isolde drove past all the large homes until she got to Bridget's. Luckily, Gareth's car wasn't in the driveway so she wouldn't have to deal with Mr. Pompous-Attorney today. She parked her car and got out, going to the front door to ring the bell.

She had to press it three times before the door was sluggishly pulled open to reveal an extremely frazzled Bridget with dark circles under her eyes and a glass of vodka in her hand.

"Bridget?" Isolde said startled.

"Isolde, what are you doing here?" Bridget croaked.

"Mum's been worried sick, she's tried calling you and finally she resorted to sending me over here."

"Good ol' Mum," she replied as she moved away from the door to allow Isolde in.

The house was still immaculate, and posh as ever with its gilded chandelier in the foyer, and priceless antique vases adorning a side table.Yes, Isolde thought to herself, this place was definitely Bridget.

Following her sister into the sitting room, she took in her distraught appearance and weighed her words carefully before starting to speak.

"It's not just Mum who's worried, you know. You're my little sister, and I love you. Now tell me what's wrong," she ordered.

"What's wrong? Nothing is wrong. I'm fine, perfect in fact. You really shouldn't have troubled yourself, I think you can show yourself out."

"Bridget you aren't fine, you are far from it. I've never seen you like this, is it Gareth?"

"Look, really you needn't trouble yourself. I am a big girl, and I can take care of myself."

"It doesn't look like it. So put that ruddy drink down, go upstairs and take a bloody shower."

"I don't have to-"

"I'll drag you up there myself if I have to," Isolde snapped.

When Bridget made no move to leave her spot on the sofa, Isolde wrenched the vodka from her hand and pulled her all the way up the stairs despite her sister's drunken protests and stumbling. She then threw Bridgit in the shower and turned the water on full blast.

"Bloody hell!" Bridget shouted when the ice cold water stabbed at her skin.

It was one of the most sobering experiences of her life. Yet she just sat there and let the water hit her. Isolde left the room momentarily and returned with a dressing gown which she set down on the bench.

"Clean yourself up, and when you are done I'll be waiting for you downstairs."

Twenty minutes later Bridget came slowly down the stairs, wearing the fuzzy dressing gown. Isolde had left her with her hair soaking wet and pulled into a bun. Isolde patted the spot next to her on the couch and Bridget sat there while Isolde took down her hair and began to braid the wet locks before they knotted themselves.

"You know, I thought getting married would be fun…I mean who gets married at my age to an amazing guy with this great house. It was the total package; I mean, I had to say yes, right?"

"You didn't have to say yes. You could have said no," Isolde said quietly.

"I couldn't say no! You don't know what it's like, Isolde. To have them pouring their heart out to you and holding the ring… If you said no in that moment it would crush them…you don't know."

"I do know," Isolde said as she put the finishing touches on the braid.

"What?" Bridget said, slowly registering what her sister said.

"Vincent proposed to me when we were dating. And naturally I said no."

"Why?"

"'Cause I always believed that when I got married, I wouldn't hesitate to say yes. But there were a thousand things inside of me that screamed no. I couldn't do that to myself. I just couldn't put myself in that position."

"So how did he react?"

"He got angry, and we fought about it. He accused me of cheating on him, and then he hit me."

"He…what?" Bridget said slowly.

"Yeah, he hit me. And I left him and came to London."

"That's why you left… And when Mum brought him to dinner… I'm so sorry Isolde."

"Don't be, it got me to where I am now. And I couldn't be happier, but you look like hell."

"It's just that Gareth isn't really around much. He has this huge case and everything, so I understand. But what about our kids? Are they ever going to see their father? And sometimes at night, I'll lie in bed and wonder if Gareth ever cheats on me. I am just so scared about it all…and I can't go to Mummy 'cause she wants this wedding so bad and she loves Gareth so much." At some point through her small speech Bridget had started crying.

"Look, I think you need some time away from this huge empty house. Come stay with me for a while. It's no million dollar palace, but it's home."

"Isolde I can't…"

"You can! Just leave Gareth behind for a while."

"No, I really can't leave him…Isolde I can't I need to stay here. I can't run away from this. I'm not you; I don't runaway from my problems."

Isolde ran her hands through her hair before standing up and nodding her head. Grabbing her jacket from the closet she hastily threw it on.

Before she was about to walk out that door, she said, "Bridget, I'll be at your wedding. I'll go to your dress fittings and all that, and smile for the cameras. But the next time you need me, I won't be there to help you."

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"You look upset. Did your meeting with your sister not go well?" Tristan said the moment Isolde walked into his apartment.

"Ten points to Tristan Armenye," she replied before giving him a hug and resting her head on the soft fabric covering his chest.

Tristan rubbed her back and rested his chin atop her head as she held on to him as if he was the only thing in this world that was holding her on to it.

"What is wrong?" he whispered into her ear.

Isolde shook her head and leaned up to give him a quick kiss on the lips. When she pulled away, she had tears in her eyes and Tristan immediately began to rub his thumb over her cheek in small circles.

"Do I run away from everything? Am I that cowardly and weak of a person?" Isolde asked softly.

"You are one of the strongest people I know," Tristan replied gently before moving Isolde so that she could sit on the couch while he went to get her a glass of wine.

"Nothing is ever simple is it?" Isolde said when he handed her the glass which she accepted gratefully.

Tristan pondered this a moment, his dark eyes intensely focused on his own hands.

"Some things are. But if everything was easy, would it be worth it?" he asked.

"I'm sorry; I'm not being very good company, am I?" Isolde said as she placed her empty glass down on the table.

"You are with me, and that is all I could ever want."

Isolde looked at him with eyes that were still slightly puffy and knew that he meant every single word. He loved her beyond everything else, and she felt the same way about him.

She knew that she would not be returning home to her apartment tonight. Her solace would be found in the arms of Tristan. Her cares were to be done away by his touch on her skin, her form protectively covered by his own, and she felt herself slip away from it all.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"_Isolde, what are you doing here?" Tristan said as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of his quarters in the barracks._

"_I had to see you. I had to tell you before you heard from anyone else," she said, her voice shaking._

"_I…my father has arranged for my marriage to Captain Verious." _

"_What?" Tristan said springing from his bed to hold the sobbing woman that he loved._

"_After I left you today, they told me. Tristan, I do not want to marry him! I want to stay with you like I promised," she forced out, in between sobs._

"_Shhh…Is it definite that you are to marry?" he said, even though inside he felt like he wanted to vomit._

"_I believe so; there is nothing to be done."_

"_And were you to marry someone else first?"_

"_Tristan, you do not know what would happen! If you were to try and marry me, you would be hunted down and killed. I could not bear it if you were to die."_

"_And I cannot bear to have the woman that I love be in the arms of another man!"_

"_I must go…If they find me here… I have no choice…and please do not think less of me for it," Isolde said pleadingly before drawing up the hood of her cloak and leaving the room._

_Until that moment he had not known what it was to love so deeply, or the pains that accompanied it. Having imagined her always being there, he was shocked by the feeling of sickness overwhelming him at her not being there. But even more so, the she thought him capable of not loving her because of this. _

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Tristan had awoken well into the next morning to find Isolde's small body next to his protected only by the bed sheet. Their legs were still tangled together and her head was resting on his left arm. He had always thought her beautiful, and this moment did nothing to dispel it. What had been so difficult for him to find in Lana, he had found in her without having to look for it.

He ran his hands through her silky black hair until her eyes opened to stare directly back into his. She smiled at him blushing slightly under his gaze when it traveled downward.

"I think I finally get what you mean when you said some things are simple," Isolde said softly.

"We should get up," he replied.

"No, no we shouldn't." Isolde stated as she tightened her grip on him as if to keep in the bed with her before she shut her eyes.

"Isolde," he warned.

"Hmm…" she replied as she snuggled further into the crook of his arm which had become her pillow sometime in the night.

"It is nearly twelve; I think we should emerge from this bed before the entire day is wasted."

"You call it wasting the day, but I call it spending it productively."

"I know you are hungry, I heard your stomach growl."

"…did not," she mumbled cracking one eye open to look at him.

"And if you get up, I'll make us pancakes."

Apparently 'pancakes' was the key word in getting Isolde out of bed, because she bolted upright and ran to the shower. After admiring the view, Tristan got up as well and pulled on a loose pair of pajama pants and then headed off to the kitchen.

He had the look of a man who was quite relaxed and pleased with himself. But everything Isolde did affected him immensely. Joy, sadness, jealousy, she brought them all out of him with the snap of her fingers, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

He could smell the clean scent of Isolde before he felt her wrap her arms around him and observe his pancake making.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love pancakes?" Isolde said as she inhaled the scent.

"I think you might have mentioned it once or twice."

"Have I ever told you how much I love you for making me pancakes?"

"How much do you love me for making you pancakes?"

"Enough to make last night a daily occurrence."

Tristan quirked a brow at her and Isolde for further effect smacked his butt which caused him to almost miss catching the pancake he had flipped up into the air. Laughing at the look on his face, Isolde didn't see the well placed towel snap that repaid the favor.

"Oww…you bastard, that was a cheap one," she said, rubbing the offended area.

"Ah, and what you did wasn't?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No, what I did as perfectly acceptable," she said haughtily with a smirk.

"And what is acceptable for me to do exactly?" Tristan continued to flip the pancakes as she answered him.

"Hmm… you can make me pancakes, and give me backrubs…"

Tristan snorted but Isolde continued anyway.

"And you can play with my hair, and tell me you love me at all times of the day…"

"I do love you." He said it so quietly she wasn't sure that he actually had said it.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_There you have it. I apologize once again for not updating sooner. This chapter was a lot of filler but it was important to have it happen to move on to bigger and better things. Please do me the honor of a review. (It's that little grayish purple button in the lower left hand corner.) _

_Also Timeless__has been nominated for Best AU and Best Romance at the Tristan Awards!_


	14. Chapter 14

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

_A/N: During my vacation time I brought my laptop, thinking that it would be great idea to write a few chapters. That way, when I returned you would not only get some shiny new chapters, but do I dare say updates that do not occur with a month between them? So here you go, hope you like it. Thanks to my beta, Priestess of the Myrmidon._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde, for the first time in weeks, had gone without seeing or talking to Tristan all day. He had gone off to check on Arthur's holdings in Scotland and wouldn't return till very late the next day. Having been so acclimated to Tristan's body spooning her own, the vast emptiness of her bed took her an extra two hours before she could fall asleep in it. That was until Karissa burst into the room turning on the ceiling light and shouting to the high heavens.

"I hate garden parties Isolde. _Hate_! I never quite understood you Brits for being so damn fascinated with them. Honestly, what's so god damn special about being snooty and drinking tea and eating those little weird sandwiches while wearing ugly hats? Why can't you be like normal people and have a nice indoor party, open up a couple of bags of Doritos and a few cases of beer and call it a day?" Karissa ranted while waving the crisp invitation around in her hands.

"It is just a garden party Karissa. And besides it's for Guinevere and Arthur; I think you can put up with our snooty tea drinking and ugly hat wearing for a few hours. Now if you would kindly turn off the light and let me get back to sleep," Isolde replied from under her covers annoyed that she had been awakened in the middle of the night for no reason at all.

"It's not even half past eleven and you are already asleep? What are you an old woman or something? Time to fantasize about Bob Barker and eat dinner at 4 o'clock…" Karissa started but she lost Isolde with her Bob Barker reference.

Isolde pulled one of her pillows from underneath her and chucked it in the general direction of Karissa. The pillow had to have found its mark because a quick "eep" was issued after followed by the bedroom door slamming shut. Pleased with herself, Isolde rolled over and went back to sleep.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Very well, Mr. Armenye it looks like we've got everything here sorted. Please tell your employer, Mr. Castus that we will have the shipment for Rome ready in time. It is always a pleasure to deal with Mr. Castus," the man with a very wobbly chin, and a strong Italian accent stated.

"I will," Tristan said gruffly before exiting the dark office building.

He always used to relish getting sent on trips for Arthur; he had always welcomed the solitude that traveling granted him. But now he had no desire to be here at all, he'd much rather be back at his flat in London with Isolde. Then again, who in their right mind wanted to negotiate shipments and contracts till the wee hours of the morning with the man who possessed the largest double chin in all of Britain?

Stretching his arms out like a cat that had been sleeping too long in one position, he made his way down to his black sports car, one of three cars left in the entire parking lot. Tristan's car wasn't especially flashy like Lancelot's, but it fit his bill perfectly. Sleek and fast, it got him where he needed to go without drawing much attention to himself.

As soon as he slid into the leather interior, he had to stifle a yawn. Glancing down at his watch he saw that it was quarter till three. He used to be something of a night owl, or an insomniac call it what you will, as he was awake and alert for almost all hours during the day. But ever since Isolde started hanging out with him, he found himself going to sleep earlier and earlier, just like an old man. Granted it helped that he was usually quite tired out by the time his head hit the pillow. He smirked at the thought.

Now, as he made his way back to his hotel room which was devoid of all personality, and slipped between the perfectly made bed, all he could think about was how he wanted to bury himself in the scent of her long black hair in their untidy bed. Tristan wasn't quite sure when he started thinking of his home as their home, and his things their things, but it felt right, she practically lived with him as it was.

The only thing stopping them from living together outright was that she thought it was too soon and she didn't want to rush into anything. He understood that, having taken his time in the past with Lana but he had never wanted to skip the middle of dating and move forward more in his life. But if Isolde wanted to pace their relationship, he would do that for her.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"_When you are done with your service to Rome, what will you do?" Galahad asked over a pint of ale in the tavern._

_It was one of his favorite questions to ask, as it got the knights talking of home. Their service was nearly half over and though many had fallen in battle, and several would probably continue on that path, they never stopped to fantasize about the land of their childhood._

"_I think I should find myself, a beautiful Sarmatian woman to marry," Gawain said after a moment._

"_Beautiful Sarmatian woman! Why do you think we left in the first place? Mooo," Bors offered with a grin, causing the knights to laugh._

"_And what of you Tristan? Are you going to find yourself a Sarmatian woman as well?" Gawain said jokingly to the knight who was practically celibate._

"_Have you not noticed? Our scout is quite enamored already," Lancelot said with a wink._

_Tristan remained silent hating the feeling of eyes on him, instead preferring to blend into the shadows, to observe what was happening and not be a part of it. Not wanting to be the object of their stares any longer he got up and left the tavern heading out into the cold night._

"_Who?" Bors questioned as he pulled a pregnant Vanora into his lap._

"_One of the young maids training with the healer, a pretty little Irish thing with dark hair…" Lancelot described talking with his hands._

"_You cannot mean Isolde?" Vanora responded incredulously. _

"_Aye, that's the one. Isolde, she is quite a spitfire…slapped me across the face when I graciously offered to warm up her bed."_

_Tristan no longer stood outside the tavern, having grown weary of listening to them all talk of her and make comments about how they never thought Tristan could care about anything other than his horse and hawk. Instead he perched himself upon the battlements where he was afforded an expansive view of the fields. His eyes darted up to the sky; the moon was shining so brilliantly that the entire courtyard was bathed in its light. Then he saw her in her doorway, standing in naught more than her shift and shawl staring up at the stars. He had never seen anything more beautiful, and he had never wanted anything more in his entire life._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Ms. Pritchard?" came the raspy voice of one of the aged secretaries in the museum office.

"Yes, Anna, what can I help you with?" Isolde replied not bothering to look up from her lap top screen where she was currently entering in the catalog numbers of a new shipment from Peru.

"Dr. Nesbit told me to inform you that he is sending a shipment up tomorrow morning." Anna said clearing her throat twice while she spoke.

"Thank you Anna. Please tell George that he will need to set up the laboratory for me so I can analyze the shipment, and have Daphne ready to photograph the artifacts."

"There was a second part to the message, Ms. Pritchard. Dr. Nesbit said that you are the only one who should handle this shipment. I suppose he does not trust it to anyone else?" Anna offered.

Isolde looked up at this, raising one brow quizzically as her eye glasses began to slide off her nose in an utterly librarian-esque manner. If Nesbit didn't want anyone else to see what they found, it meant that it had to be huge. And the fact that he was only trusting Isolde to it meant that either he was beginning to respect her skills or he didn't want anyone else trying to steal his thunder.

As she was pondering what this new shipment could contain, her cell phone began to vibrate across her desk snapping her from her reverie. She picked up without looking at the id and pressed it to her ear while she fumbled with the charts sprawled out in front of her.

"Isolde Pritchard…" she said quickly while she dug through the various folders looking for the one that contained the information on Incan pottery that she needed to input into the database.

"Hello, Isolde it's your mother."

"Mum, what do you want?"

"Is that anyway to greet your mother? Why does my calling you mean I want something? Can't I just call you to see how you were doing?"

"That would be a first in our relationship, Mother. Now, what do you want?"

"I called the apartment the other day, because we needed to finalize your dress fitting for Bridget's wedding. And that roommate of yours, Sheba—"

"It's Shelby, Mum."

"Yes, yes of course. Anyway, Shelly told me that you were rarely there anymore. So naturally, I wanted to know where my eldest had been spending her time, and Sherry told me that if I wanted to contact you I should try your cell phone, or to call Tristan's place."

Isolde smacked her head against the desk, Shelby was going to die when she got home from work, and she had just the butcher's knife to do it with too.

"So…"

"So what, Mother?" Isolde said trying to avoid the topic to no avail.

"Who is this Tristan, and why have I not heard of him before now?"

"Tristan is the man I've been seeing, and you have not heard about him because I did not want you to know about him."

"Why? Is he something to be ashamed of? Or am I just not good enough to meet your boyfriends now?"

"Mum, every time I date someone you make it into this huge fiasco. I can't even believe I'm talking to you about this! I'm twenty five years old. Who I date isn't any of your business."

"Like hell it isn't! Hate me all you want Isolde, but it happens to be that I am still your Mother. And despite what you might think, I do care about what you do with your life. Don't throw it all away on some deadbeat guy! Lord knows you haven't had much sense when it came to men before."

Isolde's phone began to beep, breaking up her mother's tirade ever so slightly. Thankful for another call, she didn't even bother to tell her mother to hold on while she clicked over to the other line.

"Isolde, I would just like to apologize for your mother. I would make her get off the phone if I could, but she has a vice like grip on it."

"Dad, she is psychotic. I really can't fathom why you married her," Isolde groaned.

"Oh…she's seen me. I better go," her father quickly hung up, but not before Isolde could hear her mother's shrill voice yelling at her father on the other end.

Only in her family was something like this not out of the ordinary. Returning to her cataloging, she watched the hours slowly whittle themselves away before the clock hit six. Grabbing her overcoat and briefcase, she put away her files for the day and locked her office ready to head home.

She felt goose-bumps rise on her skin due to the damp weather that they had been having of late. Isolde knew that her hair was going to frizzle as a result of the added moisture; she already looked like a complete wreck as it was from her wrinkled blouse complete with a faded coffee stain and the bags under her eyes.

Negotiating her way through the disaster zone that was her apartment, she managed to make it to her bedroom without serious injury. Shrugging off her stiff office garb she found a comfy pair of sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt that were simply calling her name.

Tristan was supposed to have called her when he got back from Scotland, but it was now pushing seven thirty and he had yet to pick up the phone to dial her number. She reasoned that he was probably tired and went to sleep directly after coming home and that she would see him tomorrow after work.

With that mantra in her head, she set about updating her diary with all that had occurred that day. By the time she had finished, her stomach was gurgling from hunger. Staggering into the kitchen she found that there was absolutely no food in the fridge, save for questionably old yoghurt and a container of mustard. Shutting the door in disappointment, she threw herself down on the sofa cradling a throw pillow to her stomach in an attempt to silence it once and for all.

A knock sounded at her door, and she reluctantly got up assuming it to be one of her roommates who had forgotten their keys. Instead she was surprised to find Lancelot standing at her door looking impeccable, as always, with several containers of Chinese food.

"So, before you wonder at your good fortune, that I should arrive here bearing you food, know that I gave up on a date with a very attractive woman to be here," Lancelot said with a smirk before giving Isolde a peck on the cheek and heading towards her kitchen.

"I am touched, really I am. But what would you have done had I been at Tristan's apartment instead of at home?"

"Well, you see I already knew that Tristan was still in Scotland because in the meeting today Arthur informed us that he would have to stay an extra day because the shipment due for Rome was not ready as promised. And knowing that you have a serious lack of a social life, I assumed you would be at home by yourself, and probably in want of some dinner."

"Thank you," Isolde said with a smile as she inhaled the scent of jasmine rice.

"You know, since I deprived myself of any sexual gratification tonight, the least you could do would be to offer me your services," he said winking as he slowly licked sauce from his fingers in an attempt to appear sensual.

"There isn't enough liquor in the world, Trouble. I'm sorry. Besides, I don't know how effective you'd be at performing after Tristan rams his Samurai sword through it."

"He still has that bloody thing in his apartment? Thought Lana would have made him throw it out, the way she had him whipped."

Isolde tensed up at the mention of Lana, and Lancelot realized he had hit a still sore spot.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring her up…"

"No, it's fine. No worries. I found some of her stuff the other day when I was cleaning. I need to send it back to her; I'm sure she's missing it. I just feel so guilty, you know? I'm some sort of a home wrecker, the dreaded boyfriend stealer."

"Lana and Tristan were on their way out long before you came into the picture. Besides, as much as it pains me to admit it, Tristan is so right for you it is kind of scary. However, that isn't to say that if you two ever have a falling out, that I am not available for some hot and steamy rebound action."

"You know, you start to say something profound, and you almost sound like a gentleman, then poof! Out of nowhere come the cocky sexual remarks," Isolde spat giving him a punch on the shoulder for good measure.

"Ow." Lancelot mumbled in all seriousness as he felt his bicep go numb.

"Stop being such a baby."

"No, you punch really hard…oww…" he continued whining as he tried to rub some feeling back into it.

"Suck it up, princess. I didn't even hit you that hard. Besides if you don't find your strength returning soon, I wonder at how you will ever be able to lift a tea sandwich on Saturday."

"That garden party is on Saturday? I thought it was next weekend," he moaned.

"No, it's this Saturday. Why the long face? Do you have another hot date you'll have to pass up?" Isolde joked as she popped a dumpling into her mouth.

"Worse…I have absolutely nothing to wear."

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Tristan was livid. How this man managed to screw up the shipment was beyond him. Last night everything seemed in order for the delivery, but now it was a bloody mess. And it was Tristan's job as usual to assess the damage before the rest of the team had to deal with it.

That was how he found himself buried in paper work, with Mr. Wobbly-Chin for yet another evening. He hadn't even had time yet to call Isolde and apologize. He mussed his long hair with one hand as the other was busy scanning the export logs for where the shipment could have gone instead of Rome.

"Mr. Armenye, it has grown rather late. Our custodial staff cannot wait any longer. they need to start locking up the building. We can finish this in the morning." Mr. Wobbly-Chin announced as the clock drew even closer to three.

"Have your custodial staff leave me the keys, I'll lock up."

"But Mr. Armenye—"

"I do not plan on spending another day here when this can be straightened out tonight. Leave the keys on the table over there, and I will give them back in the morning before I leave," Tristan said in a deadly calm voice while looking the man directly in the eye who cowered in his gaze.

"Yes, Sir… Of course, I'll leave them here."

Tristan flipped another page over on his clipboard as his hawk like eyes sought out the information he needed. He glanced down at his watch, it was growing late. Isolde was probably already asleep and if he tried to call her now, he'd just wake her. He wondered if it was always going to be like this; if it was he wasn't sure he could concentrate on his job effectively. Another thing that was troubling him was that he was having strange dreams, involving her and she was being ripped from him in one way or another. Tristan blamed his stress for the matter, and figured that they would disappear as soon as he had some time off to relax.

He stretched his back, cracking his fingers as he took a moment to recompose himself. It was in this moment that his side started hurting him. The diagonally run scar began near his left rib cage working his way to his back, and was now throbbing as if it was freshly made. Tristan had been involved in a car accident at military school. A man named Cerdic had hit Tristan while he had been out running. He had been pinned to the tree with a piece of metal embedded in his side and remained there for several moments slowly bleeding to death. Luckily, he had not been alone and Arthur called the ambulance and prevented Cerdic from leaving the scene.

Upon the arrival of the police, they found that Cerdic was already a wanted man for being involved in various illegal affairs, too many to almost list. Yet, time and time again he walked away from the courts because he had the money and the sheer power to do so. But Arthur was relentless and would not back down, prosecuting him with such fervor that Cerdic ended up receiving life-imprisonment.

Tristan's wounds had eventually healed and he never gave it much thought, but now it felt as if his ribs were burning. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind with great difficulty before returning to his work. Weakness was not something he tolerated, and all pain could be overcome. If he was going to be bested by anything it would not be an injury sustained long ago.

Two and a half hours later he found the man's mistake. The shipment bound for Rome, had been placed amongst a larger shipment destined for Madrid. His incompetence was astounding, how Arthur ever agreed to keep this man on was beyond him. Marius was chosen to head this division of the company back when it was based in Rome. Arthur, who had inherited it, also inherited the various puppets and idiots that came along with it. It had not been easy to sort out everything that the Romans had done; all their misdealing and abandoned ventures. They were about to give up on the British market entirely until Arthur found cause to move the company here. That silenced them entirely, and affirmed Arthur's true status as an effective leader of the company.

It seemed everyone who worked for Arthur hated Marius and everyone under Marius's employ also hated the man. But no one had found an effective way to terminate his employment without involving a widely publicized legal battle.

Tristan highlighted the mistake that was made, re-routing the shipment back to Rome on the next available cargo plane. Grabbing the set of keys, he turned out the lights in the office, bathing himself in darkness as he negotiated the hallways with ease eventually locking the main doors and heading for his car.

If he started packing now, he could leave as soon as the morning custodian arrived and be back in London by this afternoon. And if Arthur was being kind, which Arthur typically was, he'd give Tristan the rest of the day off.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"_I already told you, Sir. I am not interested." Isolde repeated as she began to crush the herbs needed to make an effective salve for a burn._

"_And why may I ask do you find me so unappealing?" Lancelot persisted drawing closer to Isolde with his tunic removed so she could dress the wound on his back._

"_I am here to treat your wound not your sexual frustrations."_

"_But I could warm your bed so well…" Lancelot purred in her ear snaking one arm around her waist._

_Isolde then whipped around, slapping him across the face with such power that it left a bright red hand print on his cheek._

"_I am not a tavern whore. If you want me to dress your wound keep your hands to yourself, otherwise I suggest you find someone else to do it for you," Isolde warned._

_Lancelot was about to retort when Tristan walked into the room nursing a badly blistered hand. He did not miss the blush that appeared on Isolde's fair cheeks when she locked her gaze with Tristan's. Nor how the Scout kept his eyes trained on the woman as she tended to Lancelot's wound._

"_Come back tomorrow and I'll change the dressings." Isolde stated simply as she tossed Lancelot back his shirt and began to put away the materials she used._

"_Nasty blisters…" Lancelot remarked as he passed by the bed where Tristan was sitting._

"_Eh…I've had worse." Tristan responded tossing his hair out of his eyes._

_Lancelot chuckled and left the room. _

"_So our Scout has been bewitched by the Healer's apprentice…Well I'll be damned." Lancelot said to himself as he walked down the hall._

"_I am beginning to think, Sir that you are injuring yourself on purpose," Isolde said softly as she gently massaged a different salve that smelled of lavender on to his blisters._

"_And what makes you think that?" Tristan said devoid of emotion._

"_You got these because you did not wear your glove while using your bow. You and I both know that you would never be that careless. And last week you managed to fall from your horse when I have never seen so natural a horseman as you…" Isolde removed her hand to grab a piece of clean cloth to wrap the wound._

_Tristan simply smirked at her and let her go about dressing his hand relishing the feeling of her touching him even if her touches were feather light._

"_There you are, right as rain," Isolde said with a smile as she patted his rough battle-heartened hands with her own delicate ones._

_He used his hands to bring death and pain unto others, while she used her own to bring the life back into them. _

"_Thank you," Tristan said quietly as he stood to leave, passing by her more closely than necessary to inhale her scent._

"_Oh and Tristan… next time do not injure yourself on purpose. I would hate for you to suffer on my account." Isolde said with a gentle chuckle._

"_You have my word," Tristan said with a slight bow of his head before he left the room._

_Isolde waited until the door was shut entirely before she let her smile take over her entire face. She wasn't entirely sure what she was feeling, but all she knew was that Knight was her undoing._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde shifted from her position on the couch, feeling a heavy kink in her back. She soon realized that the heavy kink was a result of Lancelot's knee being firmly wedged against it. The flashing light of the T.V. that had turned to the DVD home screen made her realize that they must have fallen asleep sometime after watching _Gladiator_. Lancelot had a thing for movies with great sword battles and had overruled her decision to watch _Breakfast at Tiffany's _for the war epic. She shifted off the couch causing Lancelot to roll over and occupy its entirety but he kept on sleeping.

Isolde began to pick up the empty Chinese cartons that were lying around throwing them into her rubbish bin. It was funny; she had a typical girls' night with Lancelot. Since when did Lancelot become her girlish counterpart? She moved back to the couch and laid the fleece throw blanket over his sleeping form. He'd probably have a heart attack when he realized that he just slept in an Armani shirt and even more so when he realized that Isolde drooled slightly on his arm.

She headed into the shower letting the steam wash away the soreness in her back. When her muscles had relaxed she wrapped herself in a towel and began to dry her hair with another. As she wiped the mist away that clouded her mirror, she noticed someone in the doorway and shrieked at the top of her lungs.

Lancelot doubled over laughing hysterically at Isolde's half-jump in the air and how she frantically clutched the towel to her chest in fear.

"Trouble, I am going to kill you!" Isolde said in between deep breaths which were the result of terror and anger.

"Oh lighten up, Richard," Lancelot said with a twinkle in his eye.

"What did you just call me?" Isolde asked.

"Richard. I figured since you have such an endearing name for me, I should reciprocate the favor, Richard."

"Why the hell of all names did you have to pick Richard?"

"Well if you must know…"

"Get on with it!"

"Right well, Ms. P_ritchard_, whenever you say your last name it sounds like you are saying Richard. So, Richard I have named you," he explained, rather pleased with himself.

"Great, now that you have not only scared the bloody hell out of me and come up with the most annoying nick-name in the world, would you mind getting out of my bathroom so I can put some clothes on?"

Lancelot looked about ready to respond when she pushed him with all her might out the door and slammed it in his face. The loud ruckus that was coming from the bathroom caused Shelby to wake up to find out what was going on. Still partially drunk from her excursions that night, she squinted to try and place the man standing before her.

"Hello gorgeous," she slurred while trying to appear alluring while advancing on him.

Lancelot looked almost frightened. It wasn't that Shelby wasn't attractive; she was when she was cleaned up. However at present her hair was sticking out in all directions and her make-up was smeared across her face like a bizarre Picasso painting.

"Richard… I mean…Isolde…let me back in!" Lancelot said through the door while trying to avoid Shelby's grasping hands.

"Trouble, I already told you I'm changing, and in case you never realized it isn't a two person activity…"

Shelby took the opportunity while Lancelot was about to reply to place a sloppy kiss on his lips and his eyes widened in shock. Kissing a drunken woman while you are not as equally plastered was a disturbing experience. He used his arms to hold her at a distance and Shelby looked confused for a moment before pitching forward and snoring loudly against him.

This is how Isolde found him when she stepped out of the shower wearing her pants suit for work. Her mouth dropped open ever so slightly and it took a moment to process what was going on before she let out a giggle.

"It's _not_ funny… help me damn it!" he said, as he was loosing his grip on the woman who had become a dead weight in his arms.

Isolde took another moment to make a mental image of this before throwing one of Shelby's arms around her shoulders allowing Lancelot time to breathe.

"Let's put her back in her room. In the morning she won't even realize what happened."

"Yes, but I'll remember. She bloody kissed me. Bleh, she reeked of alcohol and cigarettes."

"And you are complaining? I thought you loved the attention of the ladies…" Isolde said with some surprise as she hefted Shelby back on to her bed.

"Well, normally I would consider women throwing themselves at me as natural…but have you ever been kissed by a drunk before? It was horrid…disgusting…like kissing Gawain."

"You've kissed Gawain?" she demanded, incredulous, her mouth

"No! Gah! I am going to go rinse my mouth out now because I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit at the thought of that."

"Hey, Karissa kisses Gawain all the time and she doesn't see anything wrong with it."

"Yes, but Karissa is a woman and American. Those Yanks are strange, strange people," Lancelot said before taking a swig of her Listerine and swishing it around his mouth.

"Right well, I have to head out to work. Just show yourself out when you are done. And no more kissing my drunken roommate," Isolde teased with a laugh as she grabbed her briefcase and headed out the door.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_A/N: And there you have it. I think this chapter was a bit more humorous than the others. But I hope you enjoyed it. 13 pages long! I believe this is my longest yet. Next chapter will see the return of Tristan/Isolde interaction. I just wanted to bring back Lancelot because I love writing him. I also wanted to explain a bit of back story. Anyway, since I gave you a long chapter, can you find it in your hearts to give me a review? _


	15. Chapter 15

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

_A/N:_ _Here is another chapter, yet again from my time spent on vacation. (There is honestly nothing to do up here, not that I mind writing fanfiction of course.) Some more stuff will be revealed in this chapter, hope you enjoy it. Merci, Priestess of the Myrmidon for betaing yet again._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Ms. Pritchard the lab has been set up as per your requests. Dr. Nesbit said the shipment should arrive by 9 am. So that gives you two hours to make any final changes. Also, you received a call from Lima this morning, I told them that you would be busy all day and to call back this afternoon." Anna informed Isolde as soon as she walked in.

"Thank you, Anna. Please hold all of my calls unless it is an emergency."

"Of course, Ms. Pritchard."

Isolde entered her office, flicking on the ugly fluorescent lighting which gave the room a slightly surgical feel. Her first priority was to ensure that everything was set for the rest of the Museum's exhibits so that she would not have to deal with any problems on the Museum floor while she was working down in the laboratory below.

Taking off her jacket she laid it carefully on the back of her chair. Pulling her hair back from her face with a clip as she walked, Isolde made her way down to the laboratory. It was humidity controlled and the lights were designed as to not interfere or increase the aging of ancient parchments.

As Anna had said, everything she would need was laid out before her. She slipped on a lab coat and put on a pair of latex gloves. Taking a deep breath she walked through the room making sure that it was all set to her specifications. Then, all she could do was sit and wonder.

At 9 am exactly the back door to the laboratory opened and two of Nesbit's interns came in with a crate roughly the size of a coffin. Isolde's heart sped up as she realized what that crate probably contained. The coffin sized crate was soon joined by two smaller crates and one of the interns handed her a letter form Nesbit himself.

"_Dear Ms. Pritchard,_

_You are probably wondering why I wanted you alone to look at this. Let me be the first to say that what we have uncovered is huge, and is of great national importance. In addition to that, I believe it will bring global attention down upon our museum. So, it is imperative that we keep this as quiet as possible until we are entirely sure of what we have._

_I chose you Ms. Pritchard, because I believe that you have the ability to handle this task. After all, it was you who first thought to look at the sword more closely. In the crates you will find further pottery from the grave site, as well as a set of armor. But in the largest box, as you very well have probably suspected is in fact the skeletal remains of our warrior._

_Take all the time you need Ms. Pritchard, and if you discover anything at all please call me immediately._

_--Nesbit"_

When Isolde finished reading she was even more anxious to open the crates. She sent his interns from the room and made sure that either laboratory door was locked before taking out the crowbar to pry them open.

She started with the pottery. It was nothing she hadn't seen before, the same basic design and probable functionality of the time period. They already had several others recovered from the same site. Then wrapped carefully in cloth was a golden chalice. The chalice was of Roman make, around 400 A.D. if she had to guess off the top of her head. But the chalice was not in congruence with the rest of the items, it was far too expensive and vastly out of place. However the Romans were occupying Britain at this time, so it is possible he came by it through them.

She catalogued the pottery and the chalice, photographing them as well before setting them aside. Her hands began to tremble as she reached for the other smaller crate which was said to contain a set of armor. Isolde pried the crate open with some difficulty before the lid popped open.

Removing the protective packaging she reverently began to unwrap a well preserved suit of leather ring mail, light and effective. The design of it was something she wasn't quite used to seeing for this time period. Granted little was known about the Dark Ages, yet this armor did not seem to fit it at all. It appeared to have Asian influences, as well as Roman and something else she could not seem to place.

She noted that there was an appearance of dried blood across several areas of the armor, along with deep gashes. So whoever this man was, he probably died with this on and it was removed for his burial. Isolde took a swab to the dried blood and made a sample of it. If they were lucky, they could run the alleles in the blood against the typical alleles across Europe and find out where he came from.

Photographing the armor, she took care to pack it up again and put it in their freezer so that no mildew or mold could destroy the leather. Recording all of this, she moved on then to the last and perhaps most important part, the skeletal remains.

Opening the box she was greeted with the skeleton, most of its bones still intact. She immediately noted a breakage along the left rib-cage, perhaps where a sword passed through. It matched up with the gashes found on the armor, and it would have been quite the killing blow.

The bones had aged into a yellowish brown, yet Isolde felt as if this man was still very much alive. So much about his life could be found out by reading his skeleton. Fractures and full breaks that had been set and healed again were ever present on the skeleton noted by the heavy calcification along the breakage points.

Judging by the skeletal height this man would have been around 5'6" which was quite tall for his day and not typical of the general Briton. If she could get someone in to make a cast of the skull, they could begin to build it up again with clay to determine what he looked like. But Nesbit said he didn't want anyone else to know about him yet.

There had to be something that she was missing. The sword had told her a lot, and it also frightened her considerably. The Celtic knot on the sword was mirrored on her necklace, and whether it was just a weird occurrence of a common symbol or something more she wasn't sure.

If this man drew from Asiatic, Roman, British and another group in his armor and choice of weaponry it had to make him a high-ranking warrior, perhaps a knight. And if this man was a knight, then he could have been under Arturious Castus.

"Holy Jesus… this could be a Knight of the Round Table." Isolde said aloud, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Suddenly she felt so unqualified for this, so not ready to take on something of this magnitude. A discovery like this was supposed to be made by a great archaeologist and his staff, not a partially insane archaeologist and a museum historian. Her stomach began to churn and she began to panic.

Her eyes darted downward into the coffin and for a moment it seemed as though she could see flashes of a form begin to take life. Her imagination was filling in gaps that she did not feel ready to handle. The deft curve of a hand, leading to the sinewy muscle of an arm to the lithe chest skillfully sculpted but never overbearing. But when she started to see what the face of this man could have been, she quickly shut the cover of the crate, throwing off her gloves as she went to retch in the nearby trash receptacle.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Tristan, is the matter sorted?" Arthur asked immediately after Tristan returned to the London offices that afternoon.

"Yes," Tristan said curtly making his way to the rest room to splash water on his face.

He ran his hand down over his mouth feeling the prickles of his beard against his palm, as he looked at himself. Well, two nights of not sleeping was bound to make anyone look like hell. Seeing the beginnings of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes he began to chuckle.

"You are becoming an old man…" he repeated his earlier thoughts to himself.

"We all are getting older…" Arthur said having followed Tristan into the restroom.

"Aye…" Tristan stated as he dried his hands with a paper towel and was about to exit the room when Arthur called out to him.

"Tristan, we aren't getting any younger either, we've known each other for eighteen years. And look at us now, we are both in our late thirties and neither of us wants to give up our youth. Soon we'll all be old men watching our kids have all the fun, while our wives boss us around and remind us of the days when we used to be useful."

"Well since you are to be the first of us all to walk down the aisle, send us a postcard from the other side once and a while…that is if Guinevere lets you out of her sight." Tristan said with a smirk before throwing away the paper towel and walking out of the restroom towards his office.

He sat down at his desk, relaxing into the leather swivel chair which was all too tempting to spin around in. Looking at the picture he had of Isolde on his desk, Arthur's words echoed in his mind. He wasn't getting any younger and it was time for him to settle down. He almost had with Lana, but the more he thought about it, he knew that would have been the worst mistake in his life. Isolde however was a woman he wanted to grow old with, to fight with over the chores, to bear his children. Tristan snapped himself back into reality, since when did he think about having children?

Looking into Tristan's office, Arthur saw him staring at the picture of Isolde he kept on his desk. He knew it was only a matter of time before there was a Mrs. Armenye, but the idea of it still made him chuckle. He continued on down the hallway, stopping in at Gawain's office.

Knocking quickly on the door frame before admitting himself inside, Arthur placed a folder down on Gawain's desk. Gawain stealthily attempted to close out his game of solitaire before Arthur noticed that he was not doing the budgeting work that he was supposed to be doing.

"Gawain, have you a moment?" Arthur said calmly.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"I have a favor to ask actually…" Arthur began.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde put away the artifacts and skeleton in the freezer chambers, locking everything up after herself as she made sure that no one would know the nature of its contents. The blood sample she collected she sent off to the lab along with several other samples from various other finds as to make it inconspicuous.

Then she picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Nesbit, who answered after the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Nesbit, it's Isolde Pritchard from the Museum."

"Ah, Ms. Pritchard. What have you discovered?"

"The true question, Dr. is what have you discovered? I know you had an idea, when you sent the shipment to me, but I wonder if it was the same as mine."

"Ms. Pritchard, I believe it is wise that we do not talk about this until I can return to the Museum on Monday. Until then, just continue on as normal."

"I sent a sample of the blood I collected off to the lab to be checked for alleles that might allow us to link our man to a certain section in Europe."

"So you do not believe him to be British…" Nesbit said with a hint of lightness in his voice.

"Sir, you and I both know that he is not…Until Monday then, goodbye." Isolde said calmly before hanging up the phone.

Heading up to her office she saw that she had a stack of messages waiting for her. Several were from Lima regarding the Incan artifacts, one was from her mother about getting fitted for her bridesmaid's dress, another was from her dry cleaners to inform her that her dress would be ready for tomorrow and the last one was from Tristan.

She smiled as she looked down at the pink slip of paper that had said he called to tell her he was home. What she needed after a hectic day like today, was a calm night with Tristan. Isolde headed back to her own apartment first to drop off her briefcase and her work clothes and to slip into something more casual than a business suit. She threw some night things into an oversized purse as well, because she figured that she would be spending the night and headed off to Tristan's apartment to surprise him.

When she arrived at his apartment she knocked several times but he did not answer. Isolde hoped that he had not popped out on some errand, but after knocking again he finally came to the door looking disheveled.

"Hey, are you feeling ok?" Isolde said as she reached up to kiss him.

"Yes, I just was trying to rest; I haven't gotten much sleep these past few days." Tristan said reaching out to push some hair away from her face.

"And whose fault is that?" She said with a raised brow.

"Yours actually," He responded as he took her overnight bag from her and brought it into the bedroom.

"Mine? Really? And however did I manage that?" Isolde said with a chuckle.

"You know how when you were little and you had a favorite teddy bear that you slept—"

"You had a teddy bear?"

"…that isn't the point. The point is when you are so accustomed to having something there with you all the time, it is impossible to go without it. All you think about when it isn't there is when it will be, so you can feel its comfort."

"Are you saying I'm your teddy bear?"

"In effect, yes…yes I am." Tristan said as he placed his hands on her hips before kissing her properly, instead of a welcoming peck.

"Let's get you into bed…" Isolde laughed breaking away from the kiss when he yawned in the middle of it.

"Well you like to get straight to the point…"

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_A dull brown tunic lay discarded on the riverbank along with a pair of worn boots, when the outer gown of a woman fell next to them. Standing only in her summer shift, she felt somewhat naked but it was such a relief to feel the cool air that her shyness soon passed. _

"_Stop being such a baby and get in…" He shouted to her while treading water in the center of the pond._

"_I do not know how to swim…" Isolde said meekly but Tristan had chosen that moment to dive under the water, so her words were lost to him. _

_She began muttering under her breath about how stupid an idea this was, and started to walk away from the rocky beach of the river, when an arm snaked out pulling her backward into the pool._

_Isolde shrieked as she went under causing some water to go into her lungs and she struggled to get back to the surface as her gown became weighed down with the weight of the water. Tristan however noted her distress and pulled her up, holding her afloat against him so that she could not sink back down once again._

"_I was trying to tell that you that I cannot swim." _

"_I would never let you drown." _

_Isolde looked up at him with the fear fading from her eyes, his own hair was plastered around his face, and she thought the look suited him quite well. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing their bodies even closer together. Having never been intimate with a man before, or gone beyond a playful peck given as a girl, Isolde didn't quite know what came next._

_Luckily for her, Tristan wasn't so inexperienced and gently pressed his lips to her own. He was gentle at first, and when Isolde relaxed he parted her lips with his tongue slipping it inside her mouth to massage her own. She felt his hands pull her flush against his bare chest. One thought burned through her mind in that moment, 'I could get accustomed to this.'_

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

Isolde sat in her bedroom in her apartment applying her make-up for the garden party that afternoon. She did not want to go, but she knew it meant a lot to both Guinevere and Arthur who had been nothing but kind to her. It would only be a few hours of mingling she kept reassuring herself.

She slipped on her outfit, a lovely, white, silky strapless sundress with a matching green and white chiffon shawl. She wore pearl drop earrings and a matching pearl drop necklace. Isolde had curled her hair, so it fell in orderly waves down her back as opposed to a frazzled mess and to top the outfit off, she put on a woven panama hat trimmed with a white ribbon that she had splurged on during her last trip to Italy.

She had lost herself somewhere in that outfit, but the point of today was to blend in with the wealthy and aristocratic crowd and not make a scene. She would show up for Guinevere and Arthur, chat politely with some of the guests and, if she was lucky, she could slip away after tea.

When she emerged from her room, Karissa tried not to comment. But it was true, Isolde fit the part of the snobby upper-class Englishwoman to a T. Karissa on the other hand had chosen a more bold pink and orange flower print dress and opted to not wear a hat and rebel against English social norms.

"You look quite stylish today…" Karissa said with a snort.

"Don't even go there! At least I won't be the topic of conversation for a bunch of elitists." Isolde fired back sticking out her tongue as she did so.

"So you still want to ride with Gawain and me?" Karissa asked unsure if Isolde had changed her mind.

"Yes, if it isn't a problem. Tristan was going to be running late and I didn't want to bring my car up for no reason."

"No, no its fine. I'll just call him now to let him know that we are ready."

When Karissa disappeared into the other room to make the phone call, Isolde took the time to check her appearance once more in the mirror. If her mother could see her now, she might actually find her tolerable. Karissa re-emerged carrying a small but funky hand bag that matched her dress and gave Isolde a big smile.

"We are going to have fun today, even if it is a ruddy garden party." Karissa said chucking Isolde on the chin.

A few minutes later Gawain showed up and Isolde had to try her hardest not to laugh. The sight of the almost hippy-like Gawain in a proper jacket and trousers with a button up shirt and tie almost made her pee her pants. It just looked so unlike him that Isolde almost felt better about what she was wearing.

"Come along ladies, your chariot awaits you." Gawain said offering his arms to them.

"Gawain can you put on some music please…" Isolde asked from the backseat of his Range Rover as she watched London morph into the quaint countryside an hour south of Cumbria.

He flicked on the switch but once again it was one of his CDs and Isolde almost wished for death when he began singing along to Madonna's "Like a Virgin" of all things. Clawing her way out of the car seemed like a feasible option until she heard him lock the doors.

She was trapped, trapped in a car with Gawain singing at the top of his lungs.

"Karissa make him stop!" Isolde shouted as she tried to cover her ears.

"_Like a virgin…Oh! Touched for the very first time_..." Karissa and Gawain sang together.

"You aren't leaving this car dearest Richard, until you start singing along with us." Gawain shouted back.

"Why did Lancelot tell you that!" Isolde shrieked.

"I am not hearing her singing, are you Karissa?"

"Nope, I'm not hearing anything…"

"_Like a vir-ir-irgin… let your heart beat…next to mine._" Isolde belted out.

"Not bad, dear Richard, not bad at all."

They spent the rest of the car ride singing horrid 80's pop songs at the top of their lungs, laughing and enjoying themselves immensely. That was until they got to the mansion, Guinevere's father's mansion to be exact, and saw all the hob-knobbing rich people milling about.

"Do we have to go out there?" Karissa asked as she took in the sea of hats and ascots.

"Yep." Came Gawain's reply.

"Can't we just stay in here?" She asked again.

"Nope." Gawain and Isolde said in unison.

Finally they all exited the car, allowing the valet to take it so that he could park it in some mysterious location with all the rest of the cars. They were directed around back into the ornamental gardens where various silk tents had been set up with beautiful wrought iron furniture placed underneath it.

Finally they saw Guinevere and Arthur standing to the side greeting all of the guests and they made their way over to them. Guinevere had rebelled against the tradition of hat wearing as well, letting her long brown hair fall down her back held in place with a beautiful clip. She however, was dressed in the foremost fashion, and looked a vision in an ice blue gown direct from Milan. Arthur looked quite dapper himself in a suit with a matching ice blue tie and cravat.

"Gawain, Karissa and Isolde, it is wonderful to see you. Thank you for coming." Guinevere said giving them all kisses on the cheek.

They exchanged the same pleasantries with Arthur then proceeded towards one of the tents, so that Guinevere and Arthur could attend to the rest of the guests. Apparently everyone had a place setting already marked in flowing script on linen cards set out on the plates.

Gawain and Karissa were situated next to each other, Lancelot was to be on Karissa's left when he arrived, Isolde found herself between Lancelot and Tristan. She glanced around the other tables seeing that Arthur and Guinevere were to be one table away with Guinevere's father whom she had yet to glimpse and Arthur's cousin Morgan who was his next closest of kin.

The other tables were full of elderly gentleman and ladies, some business associates of Arthur's, quite a few people from the House of Lords were present as well. She chatted with Gawain and Karissa making fun of the more outlandish hats some of these women had deigned to wear getting buzzed off the champagne that someone had foolishly left at their table. Isolde felt a shadow fall over her and she tried to look up to see who it was, but the brim of her hat blocked her view completely.

"Tristan," Gawain said with a smile.

Isolde felt him slide into the seat next to her and she gave him a quick kiss and forced him to try the canapé. They noticed that everyone else was starting to fall back to their tables and eventually the novelty of the champagne and the mocking of the hats wore off. They were bored and this led to the longest awkward silence ever before witnessed on the face of the earth.

Gawain looked like he was about to say something a few times but thought the better of it and shut his mouth instead. Karissa was folding the napkin in her lap into various origami shapes and Isolde was using her crystal champagne flute to refract rainbows on the white table cloth. Tristan on the other hand was used to being silent so he was having no trouble at all with the situation they were in now.

Their jolly good "lets pretend to be mimes" time was ruined when Lancelot arrived at their table. His manner of dress was as always utterly metrosexual in nature. Isolde even thought his hands looked manicured.

"Wow, we are all exciting today." He announced as he took his seat.

"And my aren't we looking rather…pink today." Isolde said in reference to his pink striped shirt.

"Richard, you of all people should know it takes a real man to wear pink."

"Don't you think this is the wrong time to be using that name?" Isolde said as she kicked his shins under the table.

"Ow…jeez woman." Lancelot said as he reached down to grab his injured shin in pain when he felt another kick aimed at his other shin from the opposite side of the table.

"Stop being such a sissy." Gawain said calmly.

Gawain was then kicked by Karissa who told him to mind his own business and when Lancelot started to laugh he was kicked again by Isolde. He then went to retaliate by kicking her once and for all in the shins but he overshot her legs and hit Tristan instead.

Tristan's head turned ever so slowly before he locked eyes with Lancelot throwing him daggers.

"She did it…" Lancelot mouthed pointing to Isolde whose head was turned.

All of a sudden before anyone else had a chance to react a well aimed piece of breadstick hit Lancelot directly between the eyes. Tristan winked at him then rotated the remainder of the breadstick between his fingers.

"You guys stop it! We can't act like children at a garden party. There are rules of etiquette—" Isolde began to say when the rest of the breadstick was shoved in her open mouth.

She started to choke on it and Lancelot patted her a bit too hard on the back so it came flying forward landing in Gawain's glass. Meanwhile, the rest of the tables near them were staring at them with such condescension that all they could do was laugh. At the head table Guinevere had put her head in her hands as she tried to control her own hysterical laughter, and Arthur merely shook his head.

"Right then…I am just going to go pop over to the loo." Isolde muttered quickly before removing the napkin from her lap and carefully meandering through the various tables back to the main house.

She looked about trying to see if anyone was there who could tell her where the loo was when all of a sudden an aged voice called out to her freezing her in her tracks.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

Isolde turned around to see a man in his late sixties with a thick beard and eternally deep eyes looking at her. He was dressed well, but in a more casual manner than the rest of the guests and he carried an air of intelligence about him that was lost on most of the aristocracy.

"Yes, sorry. I was just trying to find the lavatory." Isolde said with a nervous smile.

"No, need to apologize…You must be Isolde." The man said coming forward and extending his hand to her.

"Yes, I am. Forgive me, how do you know me?" She said giving his hand a polite shake.

"I am Guinevere's father, Merl Locksley."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir."

"Merl will do."

"Alright, it is very nice to meet you Merl. Has Guinevere spoken of me?"

"No, actually. At least not to me."

"Then Arthur must have said something?"

"No. The truth was that I was glancing over the guest list and recognized your last name: 'Pritchard,' though not an entirely uncommon name, I knew a woman with that last name once. So it peaked my interest, then upon seeing you, I immediately recognized you for your resemblance to Roza."

"You knew my grandmother?" Isolde said dumbfounded.

"It is a small world after all. I knew her, quite well in fact. She had strong Celtic roots and as my family has been tied to this land for a very long time, we found much to discuss. In fact I seem to remember quite a few conversations about her granddaughter, which of course I assume to be you."

"And what did she say of me?"

"Oh that you were, pretty with a fairy look about you and that occasionally you had the same mischievous spirit. She was convinced you were very special."

"I think all Grandmothers are convinced that their grandchildren are special. That is why they tell everyone that their grandson or granddaughter is meant to be the next Prime Minister or discover the cure for cancer."

"That is entirely too true, but I believe she had something different in mind for you."

"Which was?"

"Have you no idea? Well, I must be getting back to the party, I am afraid I am somewhat of an elusive host. The lavatory is up the stairs, the first door on your left." Merl said with a smile before heading back out the French doors to the party outside.

Isolde thought that was an entirely strange coincidence, but a lot of things had been strange lately. Heading up the stairs she took care of her business in the bathroom, then adjusting her dress to make sure she was not showing too much cleavage she headed back down to the party.

She took her seat next to Tristan, and looked up to see Merl raise his glass to her in toast before returning to his conversation with Arthur.

"Did you get lost?" Lancelot said jokingly.

"Well it is a rather large house…" Isolde stated before helping herself to some Earl Grey.

They chatted politely sampling the various finger foods laid out before them and sipping their tea from fine china. It just did not seem to equate with their nature however, because time and time again they would draw an audience due to their antics.

"I swear to you all I cannot take you anywhere." Arthur said when he made his way over to their table.

"Sorry, Father. We'll try harder next time, we promise." Gawain said jokingly before Arthur smacked him upside the head.

"I apologize for the garden party… Guinevere said it was basic protocol for a wedding so I complied."

Lancelot made the sound of a whip and Arthur gave him a stern glare which eventually turned into a smile before chuckling and heading back to his table.

"We really should not be allowed out in public." Isolde said after a minute's thought.

"Here, here." Karissa said holding up her tea cup in toast.

Isolde was about to join in a conversation Gawain and Lancelot were having about ridiculously small dogs that go in purses when she felt Tristan's hand close over her own underneath the table.

She turned to look at him slightly confused as to what he wanted, but comforted by his touch that she didn't say anything to him but merely squeezed his hand back and listened to Lancelot retell the story of a French model he dated once who carried her Chihuahua named Princess FeeFee everywhere with them, including to the bed where he had to draw the line.

As the party winded down around five, they said goodbye to Guinevere and Arthur and made their way to the valets who were making the cars magically appear from the undisclosed location where they parked them at their arrival.

"Well that was…interesting." Lancelot said as he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked backwards and forwards on his feet.

"I want a beer…" Gawain said with a sigh.

"A beer and a football match…" Isolde continued.

"A beer, a football match and a game of poker…" Lancelot added.

"A beer, a football match, a game of poker and some stale peanuts." Karissa expanded.

When everyone turned to Tristan he just shrugged and walked towards his car.

"Who's up for a bit of a road trip?" Isolde said with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Will there be beer, a football match, a game of poker and stale peanuts?" Gawain said skeptically.

"Of course."

"Hell yeah, count me in." Gawain said with a frat boy like whoop.

And that was how they all found themselves heading towards Bors & Vanora's tavern on a Saturday night to drink beer, watch football, play poker and eat stale peanuts while dressed like complete ninnies from the garden party.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_Tristan was sitting in the tavern with the rest of the knights. They all seemed to have found other things to amuse themselves than Tristan's love life, because the topic was not broached once._

_Leaning over his ale, he drank deeply but spat it back into the tankard when Galahad tripped over Lancelot's foot and landed face first into the very large bosom of the innkeeper. The older boisterous woman was so affronted by his actions she began smacking him with the closest thing to her, a loaf of stale bread. The knights and the rest of the tavern were all in an uproar, their laughs ringing out into the night._

_Isolde, who had been out for a stroll, heard their laughter and wandered closer to the tavern. She had only been to the tavern on a few occasions and it was always with the healer as her escort. Usually she was so busy with her work with the healer that she had not the time to socialize, and when she did her parents would see to it that she was well occupied at home with taking care of her younger sister._

_Now she wandered in alone, and for the first time was truly able to observe what it was like. She stepped across the canal of water that bisected the tavern grounds and was roughly brushed past by a drunken Roman soldier. Isolde almost fell but Tristan had immediately come to her side. He brought her back to the knights table, sitting her on his lap while Bors made some sexually related remark._

_Isolde was nervous at first, but soon she grew accustomed to the crazy fervor that the knights seemed to live with. They were like a family and she was just an outside observer. Tristan played with her hair, and regretfully got up so that he could obtain more drinks from the barkeep._

_While he was gone, Isolde sat primly by herself laughing along with the rest but not offering anything in to their conversation. Her quiet countenance was overlooked by most, the men who came to the tavern were interested in the buxom wenches who for the right price would warm their beds not a prudish looking healer's apprentice. _

_But one man did notice her; a newly arrived Roman Captain stared at the dark beauty from his position across the room. He was fixated on her, and he was going to make it his business to find out more about her._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_Ha! This was 14 pages long! First off, I decided to shorten Merlin to Merl, because Merlin is a really weird name and too iconic of a name to be truly common place. And I gave him and Guinevere the last name of Locksley, because I honestly could not think of anything better at the time. I had fun writing this chapter, but next chapter will promise to be even more entertaining. It has a lot of humor, competition, a bit of drama, and who doesn't love a fight, eh? Give me a review, and I'll be very happy._


	16. Chapter 16

**Timeless **by SheWalksWithRavens

A/N: _Hey guys, I'm back yet again and I can't believe that this story has 200 reviews! ----Pops open the bottle of champagne--- So thank you to everyone who has faithfully reviewed this story, it means a lot to me. I know that there has been some confusion or curiosity in regards to this story. The easiest way for me to respond to it is to reply directly to your reviews, but for those of you who don't long in, I can't do that. So just for now I am going to reply to a few questions that came up in the reviews._

_Someone pointed out that wouldn't Isolde realize that Arthur in the present time has the same name as Arthur in the past. My reason for her not noticing this is simple, I merely kept the character names the same as to not offer confusion for everyone reading if I changed them. I stated somewhere in the beginning of the story that even though everyone knows of the Arthurian legends, the fact that they have the same names isn't going to be a big deal. Also the Roman captain is the past equivalent of Vincent. His name is in fact mentioned to be Captain Vincent Verious in the flashback where Isolde learns she is betrothed to him. I realize that by having the flashbacks not appear in sequential order, I might offer up some confusion, so hopefully that straightens this out._

_Sorry for that extra-long authors note and sorry its taken me so long to update. Thanks to my beta Priestess of the Myrmidon, and now please read, enjoy and review!_

_Also Timeless was the runner up at the Tristran awards for both Best AU and Best Romance._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_He watched her as she worked in the garden with her mother and sister. Her long black hair had come free in places and was currently sticking to her forehead from the perspiration lingering on her brow from the weather. The sun was directly overhead, and it was one of the hottest days of the growing season yet. Even when her mother seemed to slow, and her sister retired to the shade of their hut, Isolde remained as diligent as ever in her pursuit of removing the weeds from the soil. She glanced up at Tristan who she knew was watching her, putting her hand up to her eyes to shield the sun as she smiled at him and waved before returning to her chores._

"_Tristan, come Arthur has called a meeting." Galahad said as he walked up behind Tristan, who was peering out over the wall._

"_I shall be down in a moment." Tristan responded as he took one final lingering gaze out at his dark haired beauty before following Galahad down the stair towards the meeting hall._

_In the meeting hall, everyone seemed somewhat perplexed as to what Arthur desired of them. There were no Woad attacks of late, and they were not due to escort a shipment of supplies to the wall for another fortnight._

"_Knights, it is my duty to inform you that Rome will be removing some of its forces from the wall. They will still keep enough soldiers here to defend the territory, but it appears they have given up on ever taking the Northern Countries. With this removal of soldiers from Britain, we shall be stretched ever thinner and our duties will increase ten fold."_

"_Always like the Romans, to run away when the fighting gets tough…" Bors grumbled into his ale._

"_Tristan, I am going to need you to ride out more often, to check on the status of the other forts." Arthur said slowly gauging the scout's reaction._

_Tristan's face remained blank and expressionless, a practiced art. He nodded his head slightly and drowned out what Arthur was saying to Lancelot, as he thought about the time he would be spending away from Isolde. He already saw how the other men at the fort looked at her, and he had come close to drawing his sword on them in rage. The longer he spent away, the longer she would be vulnerable and if any harm should befall her at his inability to take action he would never forgive himself._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

At some point during the car ride, Tristan had removed his tie and jacket. He was able to do this because Isolde, after insisting he drove like a woman, muscled her way into the driver's seat forcing Tristan to take the passenger's seat. The fact of the matter was that, Tristan obeyed the kilometers per hour posted on the side of the road, where as Isolde held no regard for them whatsoever.

This became apparent when they outstripped not only Gawain's vehicle, but Lancelot's as well and continued to blaze on past so that they arrived nearly half an hour before everyone else.

"You are positively mad…" Tristan said as they were speedily parallel parked outside the pub.

"You got here in one piece, don't see why you are complaining…" Isolde replied as she shook her hair down from the pins that had held it rigidly in place.

"Shall we wait out here, or shall we go inside?" He asked as he stretched his arms forward, cracking his knuckles.

"We can go inside, but do you know if my denim jacket is still in the boot of your car?" Isolde asked as she reapplied her lip gloss slowly.

"I'll go get it; is there anything else you need to make your grand entrance?" Tristan said sarcastically as he hopped out of the car, glad to straighten out his legs and popped the trunk open.

Tristan's car was meticulously neat, whether this could be attributed to his military upbringing or merely anal retentiveness was not important, because it only took him a matter of seconds to locate the neatly folded article amidst the sea of grey carpeting.

Isolde got out of the car shutting the door behind her when her phone began to buzz and eventually ring. Searching the mess of her purse for her mobile, she eventually found it and managed to answer it before it switched over to her voice mail.

"Hey, Karissa, where are you guys?"

"First off I would like to say that you are stark raving bonkers…" Gawain's voice came from the other end.

"This we already knew, so why the surprise? How close are you?"

"We got a bit turned around coming off the main road, but we should be at the pub in ten minutes or so. Is Lancelot already there?"

"No, haven't seen him. Listen, give me a call when you get here, I think Tristan and I are going to head on in to the pub."

"Alright, see you in a few." Gawain replied before clicking of Karissa's phone.

He had resorted to using Karissa's phone because his own phone was still in the pocket of his blazer which had been thrown into the back seat. He hated dressing up, and was thankful that he always kept a spare pair of jeans and sandals in his car at all times. Once a hippie, always a hippie.

"So, Gawain and Karissa are on their way, and Lancelot should be around here somewhere. I say we head on in cause I'm freezing out here," Isolde said rubbing her arms for effect.

Tristan held out her jacket for her, slipping it on to her arms with perfect gentlemanly manners before guiding her into the pub. The pub wasn't as packed as it was the last time Isolde was here, but it was still quite full and Tristan immediately began to feel claustrophobic

"Richard!" Isolde heard shouted over the sound of the roar of the bar.

Isolde immediately sought out Lancelot who appeared to have gone straight into the bar upon arrival. One hand dragging Tristan behind her, and the other being used to push people aside she found Lancelot had managed to grab a table off to the side.

"Where is Gawain and his bird?" Lancelot said in between shots.

"Got a bit lost, but they are all straightened out and will be here shortly." Isolde explained as she took a shot directly out of Lancelot's hands and downed it herself.

Tristan took a seat at the table tilting his chair back on to two legs as he observed the interaction between Isolde and Lancelot. He knew that they were only friends, but that didn't help his green monster from rearing its head every now and again.

"Richard, dearest where are you going?" Lancelot called from over the top of his glass.

"To say hello to some friends." Isolde called back with a wave before her short form was lost amongst the drunken football hooligans.

Isolde's eyes sought out the bald shining beacon of Bors's head but when she failed to find him, she caught the flash of Vanora's red hair instead. Making her way over to the barmaid she decided to have some fun with her.

"Hey sugar, how bout you leave this dump and come home with me?" Isolde called out with a whistle.

Vanora turned around ready to give that young upstart a piece of her mind, but when she saw Isolde, her scowl turned into a wide smile and she gave Isolde a huge hug.

"Isolde, deary, how have you been?"

"Splendid, how's old Bors treating you?"

"Same old, same old. You here alone?"

"No, came with some friends." Isolde then pointed to the table where Lancelot and Tristan were sitting.

"Friends, huh?" Vanora said winking. "And would any of your friends happen to be more than a friend?"

"Maybe. Hey listen, can you get us a couple of rounds and bring it over to us? I'd do myself, except these shoes are killing my feet."

"Of course. Anything for you, sweetheart. I'll send Bors round when he gets done in the back."

Isolde made her way back to the table, skillfully avoiding the roaming hands of drunks that would seek to grasp her backside as she pushed past them. Isolde forwent sitting in one of the open chairs and instead perched herself in Tristan's lap her head resting on his shoulder, while his hands naturally went round her waist.

"Who's winning?" Isolde said gesturing to the television where the match was on.

"Chelsea is up, Cole just scored another goal. But Crouch came pretty close to equaling the score for Arsenal."

"Well, I'm rooting for Chelsea in this case. Never was partial to Arsenal." Isolde said as she took a stale peanut lying out on the table and threw it at Lancelot.

"Tristan, can't you restrain her arms or something?"

"Nope." He said with a smirk as Isolde threw another peanut hitting Lancelot directly in the forehead.

"Ah there you are… Honestly, Gawain is perhaps the most directionally challenged person in the history of driving," Karissa whined, not entirely acting, as she slid into her seat followed by Gawain taking the other open one.

"We were wondering when you'd get here," Lancelot said as he dodged another peanut.

"Well some of us don't fly down the roads when driving. So have you gotten us drinks yet?" Gawain said licking his lips as he looked about the table.

"Should be here any moment…" Isolde replied glancing around.

"I've got to hand it to you Isolde, this pub is great."

"Pritchard you little spitfire, come here, eh?" Bors said as he set down the drinks on the table.

Isolde got up and immediately gave the older man a huge hug. The rest of the table looked on slightly confused by this display before, Isolde turned to introduce them all.

"Everyone, this is Bors the most fabulous pub owner with the best beer in the whole of England even if his football loyalties are somewhat misguided. Bors, this is Tristan, Lancelot, Gawain and Karissa."

"Pleasure to meet ya. But don't let Isolde fool ya, she don't know nothing when it comes to football. Drinks are on me tonight, eh? I'll be back later, 'tis a might bit packed now." Bors said before slipping back behind the bar to give Vanora a hand.

"Ritchard, you keep some strange company."

"Who? Bors? Bors is like the Uncle I never had. You know the one who can drink more than an entire fleet of Irishmen, tell dirty jokes all night long and still manage to be the best family man I've ever seen."

"Sounds like you have a wee bit of a crush…" Karissa said overly suggestively, with which she was awarded a peanut to the head.

"No, no. The only man I have eyes for, I'm sitting on," Isolde said with a smile before turning to Tristan and kissing him soundly.

"And there goes my dinner…" Lancelot said before downing his pint and receiving another peanut to the head.

"Mmm… if you want we could play darts."

"I don't want to play darts," Gawain grumbled.

"And why is that?" Isolde said questioningly.

"Tristan always wins," he mumbled under his breath.

"He can't possibly win all the time," Karissa said with a motherly and optimistic spin.

"Yes he bloody well can, and he does."

"Tristan, what have you to say for yourself?"

"I am not getting involved."

"Pssh…posh. Come on Gawain, you, me, Karissa and Lancelot will play. And Tristan can stay uninvolved right here."

As they all hopped up from the table, they made their way over to the dart board.

"Here are the rules, you miss a shot, you do a shot. You get a bulls-eye, everyone else has to do a shot. Any other points are pointless."

"You know we are going to get entirely smashed?" Karissa protested.

"That m'dear is the point of the game," Gawain said kissing Karissa's head before he went over to the board pulling off the darts and stepping back to the line.

Gawain shot first and missed the shot and therefore had to do a shot himself. Next up to the line was Lancelot. He gave a cocky wink to Isolde who was standing watching him with her hands crossed over her chest. Then bam, the dart went straight towards the bulls-eye, but missed by a hair. Next up was Karissa, who missed entirely hitting the wall beside the board. Finally Isolde went and she came close to the bulls-eye but didn't hit it at all. The game continued on in such a manner for several rounds.

"I'm gonna –hic- make it this time… I swear… just you watch," Isolde slurred as she prodded Lancelot's chest.

Isolde wound her arm back and was about to fall over when Tristan came up from behind her and wrapping his body around hers, he positioned her arm and threw the dart. It was a perfect bulls-eye.

"That's cheating!" Lancelot protested.

"Tristan, how do you always do that?" Gawain asked with pure awe.

"I aim for the middle," he said with a wink before kissing Isolde who was now a giggling mass in his arms.

He guided her outside to get some fresh air and sat her down on one of the benches on the sidewalk outside the pub. Isolde shivered slightly against the night air, but turned to look at him smiling entirely from ear to ear.

"Hello…" She said finally.

"Hello." He replied brushing back a few strands of her hair.

"Even when you aren't with me, you're with me…" Isolde mumbled.

"Hmm, and how is that?" Tristan said allowing her head to fall onto his chest as he played with her hair.

"I dream about us all the time…" Isolde continued.

"Are they good dreams?" Tristan asked but noticed that she was falling asleep on his chest.

He then made the decision it would probably be a good idea for them to head home. Carefully propping Isolde on the bench so she could rest a moment while he went inside to get their jackets and say goodbye to the others.

"We are going to head out, Isolde is smashed," Tristan said to Lancelot who was the most sober of the lot.

"Do you want us to come with you?" he asked quickly.

"No, enjoy yourselves." Tristan grabbed both jackets and made his way outside what he saw made his stomach drop, his eyes narrows and his jaw clench. There was some man arguing with Isolde and he had his hands on her.

"God damn it, Vincent let go of me." Isolde shouted as she tried to shake his arms from her own; he was breathing heavily down on her reeking of alcohol.

"Oh, so you are some cheap slag now, who can run around with a bunch of men? But when a good one comes along, you want nothing to do with him right?" Vincent shouted increasing his grip.

Isolde made a muffled noise of pain, but it was enough for Tristan to drop the coats and spring into action. Vincent was ripped off her in an instant, the sickening sound of fist crashing against bone met her ears. And when she looked up she saw Tristan standing in front of her ready to kill and Vincent's cheek had been split open from the impact of the blow. Tristan thinking that the battle was done turned away from her, but only to be tackled roughly to the street by the other man.

The commotion drew the attention of the people in the bar and they all rushed out into the street to see what was going on. Lancelot and Gawain immediately sprang forward going to Isolde's side but not interfering with the fight unless Tristan needed their help.

Vincent attempted to land a cheap kick to Tristan's side, but he was too fast for him, instead he grabbed Vincent's leg and flipped him on to his back. Isolde thinking that the fight was over went to Tristan and touched his split lip when, wham, Vincent's misplaced punch ended up hitting her in the side of the head and sent her crumpling to the ground.

At this point Bors came forward with a baseball bat and restrained Vincent, yelling to Vanora to call the police, while Lancelot and Gawain held a ferocious Tristan back. Karissa went to Isolde helping her to her feet, but she looked horrible. She would have quite the large black eye soon, and she kept holding her skull as if it had been crushed.

"Isolde, sweetheart, talk to me…" Karissa said sitting Isolde down on the bench.

Isolde didn't say anything; she just seemed to shut down as it all came back to her again. She had left Vincent all those years ago because he had struck her, but that had been the brush of a butterfly's wings compared to this.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"_Tristan, welcome home." Arthur said with a smile, after Tristan returned from a three-month scouting expedition._

_Tristan scanned the crowd looking for Isolde, she promised to be waiting for him but he didn't see her dark head anywhere. Arthur picking up on the scout's subtle glances, felt his stomach sink. He didn't want to be the one to tell him, but if he didn't prepare him ahead of time, he feared that Tristan would do something rash._

"_Some things have changed since you've left us..." Arthur said slowly._

_Tristan glanced side-ways at his commander, picking up something in the tone of his voice that he didn't like one bit. Shrugging aside Arthur, Tristan made his way down into the courtyard attempting to seek Isolde out. One of the serving wenches at the tavern told him that she was down by the river washing her clothes. Tristan's heart was soaring at the idea of seeing her again, she was all he thought of these past months._

_When he got to the river, his world crashed before him. Isolde was there but so was another man, Verious and he had his hands on her touching her in a way that she only allowed Tristan to touch her. Jealousy is a terrible thing, and when it takes hold it can rip a man's character in two. Tristan's hand gripped the blade of his sword so hard that his fingers turned white._

"_Tristan..." Arthur called out, drawing the scout back from the river._

_Unfortunately, hearing the name of the scout Isolde looked up and saw Tristan standing there watching her. Isolde pulled away slightly from Verious, her eyes prickling with tears. _

_She had been wed to Verious shortly after Tristan's absence. She had promised forever to Tristan that day, but had been given prison by her own family. Though she had told Tristan of her family's plans, they both wanted to ignore it and enjoy what little time they still had, both hoping that somehow they would end up together._

_In the next few days up until Tristan's departure she had kept silent about the wedding plans, hoping that Verious would lose interest in her or she could remedy the situation without Tristan having to do something rash or be injured. But now she realized she had hurt him more with silence then she ever could with her words because she had willingly deceived him._

_Her eyes latched on to his, and she felt his pain stab her over and over again. He wouldn't want her now, she was sullied by Verious. She was dead to him and she could feel it as acutely as if her ability to breathe left her. _

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

"Who was that man, Isolde?" Tristan said as he stroked her back.

Isolde had turned herself from him, cradling her cheek with one hand as they lied in their bed back in London.

"My past…" Isolde whispered, now mostly sober.

"Why didn't you ever tell me about him?" Tristan said slowly, though he was agitated on how she could keep such a secret from him.

"I don't know…I just didn't want to dredge up bad memories I guess."

"Isolde, he attacked you in the street! I'd say that was a pretty current memory."

"Tristan, please, I don't want to talk about this right now."

"And when will you want to talk to me about it?"

"Don't." Isolde said turning to him, her face firm before she got up from bed entirely slipping on her things and heading out into the other room.

Tristan got up following her, and grab hold of her arm as she tried to walk out the front door. Isolde glared daggers at him as he held her wrists in such a manner, so possessive and domineering, though had she been in the right state of mind she wouldn't have thought anything of it.

"Where are you going?"

"To my apartment. I think I just need some time to myself, I need to think. And I can't do that here." Isolde muttered.

Tristan felt hurt and let go of her. It was Isolde pushing him away yet again and he wasn't a fan of it. He loved her, truly loved her and would put everything on the line for her, but it seemed she wasn't ready to do the same for him. And all he could do was let her walk out that door, because if he tried to keep her, she'd drive herself away even further.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_There you have a long awaited chapter, full of drama-rama. Please review. Thanks bunches._


	17. Chapter 17

**Timeless** by SheWalksWithRavens

_A/N: Surprise! I updated. I know it has been forever, and a day since I actually did update this story, but I am said to say I was a trifle bit stuck on where I wanted it to go. Writer's block is a horrid thing. But I told you from the get go, I would not abandon this story, and I don't mean to. So enjoy this somewhat fluffy chapter, I think and expect more in the future. I also thank all of you who have yelled at me since October to update, it really is helpful to me in terms of getting a chapter out to know that people are eager to read it. So that being said…Please Review!_

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

An ice pack over one eye and a bottle of Guiness in her hand, Isolde Pritchard sat wallowing in her own misery in the untidy kitchen of her flat. On the table before her was a box of keepsakes she probably should have chucked into the rubbish bin or burnt to ashes long ago. Filled to the top with things like photographs, movie ticket stubs and the odd mix-tape, it represented the physical remains of her relationship with a one, Vincent Verious.

"It's a bit early to be drinking, don't you think?" Shelby said as she entered the room still dressed in her pajamas.

"You are one to talk…" Isolde grumbled out as she took another deep swig of the full bodied liquor before her.

"Touchy…Miss. What's with the ice pack, did you finally realize that dark circles under your eyes are unattractive?"

Sliding into one of the empty seats around the table with a box of cereal and milk, Shelby proceeded to take a handful of the Cheerios pop them in her mouth, then drink a swig of milk direct from the carton.

"That is disgusting…you better buy new milk."

"I'll get on it…besides we have no clean bowls."

"And what, I'm the only one capable of cleaning a dish round here?" Isolde said with a huff as she slammed her empty bottle back down onto the table.

"Alright, what has gotten your knickers in a twist? Because frankly, you are acting as if your painters are in and your dog died." Shelby crossed her arms across her chest, and fixed Isolde with a glare.

"I saw Vincent last night…" Shelby's eyes widened with recognition of the name. It was impossible to live with Isolde and not know who Vincent was. He was akin to the devil in most respects, and Shelby was quite certain she had heard more insults associated with his name, than any other person on the planet.

"Please tell me that wanker, didn't give you that black-eye you are poorly trying to conceal with that bag of ice."

Isolde removed the pack from her eye and for the first time glanced at Shelby with both of her brown orbs. Shelby gasped slightly at the sight of it, it was black around the cheekbone, with pale yellow and purple making a circle about the eye itself.

"I'll kill him. Seriously we should call the coppers or something, and get that bastard locked up good and proper."

"He isn't worth it, Shelby. Besides, I think he might already be sitting in a jail cell. I didn't stick around to find out."

"Alright, well start from the beginning…"

Isolde relayed what had happened yesterday to Shelby, who continuously interjected her opinion forcing Isolde to pause after almost every sentence she took and when she finished Shelby looked about ready to murder someone. It had been Shelby who Isolde first came to live with when she abandoned Cumbria for London, and Shelby who had helped Isolde get over her relationship woes. Generally, Shelby's methods involved a lot of vodka and a night on the town, but it had helped. And seeing Isolde like this now, after she had been so happy with Tristan, was like going back to the starting block for her.

"Well…shit. Have you talked to Tristan, since you ran out on him last night?"

Isolde shook her head while looking at a picture of her and Vincent, smiling at a family holiday party. Wrenching the photo from Isolde's hand, Shelby proceeded to tear it up into a million little pieces and let them scatter on the ground.

"Why did you do that?"

"I did that because you need to take whatever strange screwed up hold, Vincent has on you and let it go. I say we burn it, all of it so there will be no more wallowing with a pint at bloody 10 in the morning. You will burn it, and you will get over him. Then you will do yourself a favor, and call that gorgeous man of yours and apologize for acting like such a drama queen. Then you will kiss and make-up, you will go back to living practically 24/7 at his apartment, and I will once more have free run of this place. I had just gotten used to being on my own, then pooft you pop back in. I can't be having that Ms. Pritchard, what if I had a man over and we wanted to shag in your room? Absolutely inconsiderate…"

By the time Shelby finished, Isolde was laughing and even managed to strike out and smack her friend on the arm. She knew that Shelby was right, and Tristan deserved an explanation for everything, it just killed her to know that she had acted so childishly in the moment before.

Following Shelby into the bathroom with her box of memories, she was instructed to dump all of its contents, except the mix-tapes since they were plastic, into the metal waste basket. Once it was filled to the brim, Shelby placed it in the tub, just in case it got out of control and passed Isolde the book of matches.

"You do the honors, Ms. Pritchard."

Isolde pulled a match free, running it across the back of the book to light it. She momentarily watched the small flame before dropping it into the basket, which slowly began to ignite. Placing her chin on her friends shoulder, Shelby watched the pictures of Vincent burn to a crisp.

"You know what we need right now?" Isolde said after a moment.

"What?"

"Marshmellows."

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_Isolde had snuck out to walk about the fort, eager for the chance to be alone. Ever since she married Verious she found herself in his company or that of the maids he had assigned to watch her. Verious was not stupid; he had known of her affections for Tristan and wanted to be certain that his wife would not continue on the affair. Verious presumed that if any opportunity presented itself, Isolde would fly from him back into the arms of Tristan. _

_He presumed correctly. For with her hood up both for warmth, and as a form of disguise, Isolde stalked the grounds of the fort looking for the man with hawk-like eyes. She spotted him entering the stable, and as quickly and quietly as she could she made her way towards the stable entrance._

_It would look strange for a maid to be seen entering the building, especially unescorted at this time of the evening. And she had to be extra-careful in case any of Verious's men were about. Once she was quite certain that no one was around to see her, she slipped into the building._

_No sooner was she inside did she feel a hand pressed against her throat pinning her against the wall. She looked up to see Tristan staring at her hard, letting out breath she didn't know she held Isolde waited for him to release her throat. He didn't remove his hand, though she felt the amount of pressure he was placing on her lesson._

"_Why are you following me?" He growled quietly._

"_Do you really need to ask me that?" She responded softly. _

_His eyes pleaded with her, to let him go. To let his heart break cleanly, and for him to save some sort of dignity. Wasn't it enough for her that she knew she had his love despite all of this? Did she really have to rub it in his face, that he couldn't have her as well?_

"_Tristan… try all you like, pretend all you want, lie to yourself if that makes it any easier. But you know that you can never really run from this…run from us." _

_Tristan's hand released its grip on her neck and traveled to rest on her cheek. He stroked the pad of his thumb against her smooth skin, and she turned into his touch. Her cold hand reached up to caress his wrist._

"_It kills me to see him with you, to know that he touches you that he lies with you at night." Tristan's voice wavered slightly as he spoke, betraying the emotion he struggled to conceal._

"_And do you think it pains me any less, to have to be with him? To give him my body when I swore to only be with you? I love you Tristan, I could never love anyone else, I never would want to. Fate is cruel, our gods are cruel. We just have to accept what cards we have been dealt…" _

_Tristan sighed, moving his hand away from her face as he walked away from her resting his forehead on one of the stall doors. She moved towards him, wrapping her arms about his waist as she pressed her cheek against his back._

"_This is going to be complicated…" He breathed out._

"_We'll figure it out…we'll make this work, we have to or I'll go mad." _

_Turning in her arms so that he faced her, he abandoned all reason and decided to forget everything else except being in her arms if only for tonight._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

After sobering herself up, Isolde set about getting dressed. A simple pair of fitted jeans and one thick cream coloured sweater later, she was headed out the door. The entire car trip over, she talked to herself rehearsing the apology speech that she was going to give him. It went something like this: 'Tristan, I am sorry that I ran off the other night and acted like a complete ass. You were just trying to help and I snapped at you.'

However when she got to the door of his flat, with her hand poised to knock, all thoughts seem to leave her brain. She desperately fought to cling on to a coherent sentence, but none came to her. Isolde contemplated fleeing down the stair and making a getaway in her mini, but that was another childish and stupid idea.

Rapping her knuckles against the heavy oak door, she hoped that whatever came into her head would suffice for an apology. She waited for him to come to the door, for several minutes before knocking again. Still there was no answer and Isolde's hopeful yet nervous smile vanished. Either he was out, or he didn't want to see her. She hoped it was the former, but the annoying little voice in her head kept suggesting it was the latter.

Shoving her hands in her pockets she made her way out to the park across the street from Tristan's apartment. She needed to walk, to clear her head, and the best way to do that was to get away from everything else. Finding an empty bench to sit on, she tilted her head back and exhaled deeply. Her thought process however was interrupted by the sound of giggling.

Isolde looked back across the path and saw two young children playing with a rather large mutt who was delighting in knocking them over to give them lots of slobbery kisses. Smiling, she continued to watch the pale blonde boy get knocked over time and time again as his darker haired companion kept trying to climb onto the dog's back.

Then when the dog's attentions became too much, the blonde boy got up and ran for the closest cover, which just so happened to be Isolde's bench. Isolde barely had time to register the shock of white-blonde hair before it was firmly crouched behind her, peering through the cracks in the bench to see if the dog noted where he had gone.

"Whatever you do, don't tell Nana where I am." He said in a small voice.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Isolde replied.

"My mom named her Nana, after the dog in Peter Pan, she said we needed a nursemaid to look after us."

"Your mother sounds like a smart woman."

"Oh she is alright…Oh no… Oliver is running over here, now Nana will find me for sure."

True to his word, as soon as Oliver came running over to join his brother behind the bench, Nana came trotting over as well. But instead of going after the boys, she jumped on to Isolde's lap and began giving her face a tongue bath. Laughing uncontrollably, she couldn't push the large dog off her.

Luckily someone whistled, and the dog went trotting off in the direction of the sound. Following the path of Nana's shaggy white body, she saw Tristan standing there scratching the dog's ears. She smiled softly, and brushed her hair away from her face.

"That's Tristan, he watches us sometimes when Mom is at work." Oliver supplied.

Standing she made her way over to him with tentative steps. He looked up at Isolde and stopped playing with Nana, encouraging the dog to go back to harassing the boys.

"I'm sorry, Nana is normally better behaved." He said trying to conceal a smirk as he used his shirt sleeve to wipe slobber from her cheek.

"So, you baby-sit, Tristan? You never struck me as the type to love kids running about you…"

"I help their Mom out, she lives next door. Their dad left them a while back, so she works a couple of jobs. Besides, they are good kids and they are good practice." He shoved his hands into his pockets as he tossed his head to move the hair from his eyes.

"Practice? Were you planning on having some in the near future?" Isolde said slowly.

She and Tristan had never really talked about anything as serious as marriage or kids before and the topic was slightly awkward for them both. Eventually, they would have to have this talk if they continued their relationship at their current rate, but it still was a bit impromptu of a discussion.

"Perhaps. It all depends…" He turned his attention away from her momentarily to make sure that the boys weren't killing themselves.

"Depends on what?" She pried.

"You."

His voice was so quiet, she wasn't quite sure that she heard him. But the look in his eyes confirmed his words more than anything. So, Tristan wanted to have children with her. It was the kind of realization that made you feel warm and tingly inside, yet a bit panicked.

"I'm sorry about running out on you last night… it was just a bit of jolt back to memories I didn't want to remember." She said resting her head against his arm, as she watched Nana bounding back and forth with the blonde boy's shoe in her mouth.

"It's alright. I just want you to be able to trust me enough to be open with me."

"I do trust you…" She said reaching for his hand to give it a squeeze.

'…I just don't trust myself.' She thought.

Eventually it was time to head in, so she helped Tristan to herd up the boys and Nana, and bring them back to their apartment. The younger boy, whose name turned out to be William, was quite tired from his excursion, and Tristan ended up carrying him most of the way. Isolde watched him, enjoying this softer side of Tristan. He was an enigma, but she was determined to figure him out.

When they got back into the building, Tristan led them past his apartment toward the flat next door. He knocked quickly, and soon a woman with the same pale hair as William came to the door. She wasn't much older than Isolde, with a bit more meat on her bones and a few more lines on her face.

"Oh, thank you again, Tristan for watching them. I hope they didn't give you too much trouble."

"Hardly any at all, Elaine. Besides, Nana always keeps them in line."

"Yes, well someone has to. Oh, heavens, who is this charming woman?" Elaine said taking note of who accompanied Tristan.

Isolde stepped forward holding out her hand to Elaine, who shook it warmly while her eyes darted from Tristan to Isolde in knowing recognition.

"I'm Isolde. You have charming children."

"Those little hellions? Are you sure we are talking about the same children? William and Oliver? Ages four and eight?"

Isolde laughed, she liked this woman's sense of humor. She could feel the rhythmic deep chuckle of Tristan beside her and it sent a tingle down her spine.

"Well, I will let you two go. I have to get two children into a bath, and put supper on the table. But do me a favor, enjoy the freedom and peace and quiet for me? Maybe take her out to dinner, Tristan, eh?" Elaine winked, and bidding them a quick goodbye shut the door.

Isolde looked up at Tristan expectantly, with one hand positioned on her hip and one foot tapping the ground. Tristan looked slightly confused, and tilted his head to the side like a puppy.

"Well, Mr. Armenye, are you going to take Elaine up on her suggestion?"

"And what suggestion might that be?" He said playfully causing Isolde to swat his arm.

"You know very well, what I am talking about. Besides, she made a good point. We should enjoy the freedom while it lasts."

"Enjoy, the freedom while it lasts? Was it planning on _ending_ anytime soon?" Tristan said nervously.

The last thing he needed at the moment was for Isolde to be pregnant. Though he hoped to have children with her someday, someday was not today. He wasn't psychologically ready for it, his apartment wasn't ready for it. Isolde noticed the glint of fear that struck through his body, and decided to let him suffer for a bit.

"I wouldn't say it was planning on it…just a spur of the moment kind of thing." For dramatic effect Isolde tapped her stomach. She could almost see Tristan's eyes roll to the back of his head before she started with a fit of hysterics.

"Oh, I wish you could see your face right now, its priceless." She managed to get out while gasping for air.

Tristan stopped to look at the giggling mess of a woman in front of him, and wanted to kill her.

"You…vixen. You made me think that—" Tristan started when Isolde cut him off with a kiss.

"Don't worry, I'm not pregnant. Though, one day I might be. And hopefully, should that occur, you might take the knowledge without almost fainting. I really think, I ought to tell Lancelot, Gawain and Arthur about this, they'd find it quite amusing."

"Tell them, and I'll have to kill you…"

"You would never kill me, you love me too much…" Isolde said sticking her tongue out at him childishly.

Tristan smirked at her, in total agreement before hoisting her up into his arms like a sack of flour and carrying her into his apartment.

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_Isolde was crouched over her chamber pot, emptying the contents of her stomach for yet another morning straight. Wiping the corner of her mouth with a rag her maid presented her with, she sat back for a moment waiting for the next violent spasm which would rid her of the remainder of her breakfast._

_Clutching at her stomach, she bit her lip in frustration. She knew what the signs were, her mother had told them to her long ago and she had seen them first hand when she worked for the Healer. Also, her courses had not come for nearly two moons now. It was only a matter of time before her maids would alert Verious to her pregnancy. And with any luck he'd assume it was his._

_Isolde knew differently, the child growing in her womb belonged to the man she loved with all her heart. But Tristan couldn't know that this child was his. It would just be another thing to break him, to know that his own child was being raised and claimed by another was something she didn't want him to bear._

_She had heard talk amongst the men, and hints from Verious that they might return to Rome soon. Perhaps, she would encourage him so that when she began to show, Tristan would have no idea of it. Her first child and it would have to be born away from a father who would truly love it._

_Isolde didn't have time to think about the unfairness of the world, because her nausea returned and she was once again heaving into the clay container with a maid to hold her long hair back._

**VIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV**

_A/N: I know, utterly fluffy. I didn't really discuss the main plot of the story either, but this chapter needed to be written so I could get to something juicier. And hopefully next chapter will be up in a week or so instead of a few months._


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